


Safe and Sound (You'll Always Be)

by Rearviewdreamer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Kidnapping, Bodyguard Harry, Famous Louis, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Rich Louis, Singer Louis, Temporarily Unrequited Love, attempted ransom, happy ending of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:00:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 58,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9373250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rearviewdreamer/pseuds/Rearviewdreamer
Summary: When a failed case and a guilty conscience leaves Harry more than a little lost, his boss presents him with a new, less taxing assignment to help him cope. An escape from all the madness is just what Harry needs to get his life back on track. It's just too bad his new client has a grin like the devil, a pair of electric eyes that Harry simply can't get over, and no intention whatsoever of letting him catch a break.





	1. Chapter 1

Ever since Harry was a little boy, all he ever dreamed about was being a hero. He wanted to be one of the good guys like a firefighter, a doctor, or what he actually became, a special forces officer with the police. It wasn’t quite as cool as being a superhero in a comic book, but it was as close as he could get so he went for it.

Who wouldn’t want to save people’s lives for a living, right? Being a hero sounded awesome. He’d grow up, become a good person by making all the right choices, and then through his chosen profession, try to make the world a better place. For a while, that’s exactly what he did. He helped catch evil-doers. He protected people and kept them safe from harm, so by six-year old Harry’s standards he fit the textbook definition of a hero; one of the good guys.

It’s funny how quickly things can change.

“ _Harry_. Are you listening to me?”

Harry blinks up at the sound of a voice that isn’t quite exasperated with him yet but sounds just on the cusp of being so. The pair of eyes that he meets are brown and deep and even more concerned than they were yesterday when the insanity of the station became too much for Harry so he simply got up and went home. He only thought to call their chief to say that he didn’t feel well once he was already lying down inside of his flat.

“Haz, what are you still doing out here?” Liam asks and probably not for the first time.

Harry glances around at the rest of the desks in the room that are noticeably empty and have been for quite a while. He knew people had started trickling out a while ago, but he hadn’t realized that he’s literally the only soul left.

“Shit, Li. I lost track of time,” he explains. _Lies_. Whatever. “I’m sorry,” he offers.

Liam’s analytical eyes move over him and Harry wonders what he sees. Probably the fact that he hasn’t slept more than a few hours. He can also probably tell that Harry has been out here all this time thinking and overthinking and therefore had no intention of leaving this spot.

“It’s fine. Luckily, no one important noticed your absence. Or me leaving to come find you,” he says instead. No one important as in their _chief_.

Harry gets up to follow his friend to the briefing that he doesn’t even want to know how late he is for. An involuntary sigh leaves Harry as they approach the frosted glass door of the room that Harry really doesn’t want to enter. Every time he goes in he comes out with new knowledge to weigh him down. It’s like every new psychopath or criminal that emerges sinks him just a little further beneath the tide he’s been treading ever since that night.

Liam turns to him when he hears the exhausted tell-tale sign of Harry’s reluctance follow him into the room.

“Are you okay?”

It’s questions like that and worried eyes like Liam’s that make Harry wonder if he really is.

“I’m fine. Really good,” Harry assures his friend. He’s not sure if Liam believes him or if he’s just tired of trying to figure out what’s wrong with him. Either way, it gets him to open the door and stop giving him that ‘ _you can talk to me about anything’_ look.

“Don’t worry. This shouldn’t last too much longer,” Liam whispers. Harry sure hopes so. Otherwise all that time he spent silently brooding at his desk to avoid this briefing will have been a waste.

He feels a few people’s heads turn towards him and Liam when they walk in as inconspicuously as possible, quietly tiptoeing along the back row. For a room full of people practically trained in secrecy and keeping up poker faces, no one is doing a very good job of hiding their non-surprise at Liam having to drag him in here.

“Thanks for joining us,” comes a deep voice from the front of the room that causes Harry to wince internally.

“Er- I lost track of time. Sorry, sir.”

The lie is a bit easier this time around. Probably because their chief doesn’t seem overly concerned or upset by Harry’s increasingly frequent tardiness. He spares Harry a quick glance, but other than that shows no signs of anger at Harry missing a good two-thirds of his meeting.

His apology goes unacknowledged as their chief steamrolls back into his briefing like Harry never interrupted it. Apparently there are new developments in the potential serial killer case that doesn’t pertain to Harry because he isn’t even working it. And because it wouldn’t be Tuesday without the introduction of some new crazy, their boss informs them of a string of kidnapping threats and attempts that have taken the rich and powerful by storm. Harry stops listening after their chief assembles a team to start investigating, thankful that it doesn’t include him.

He feels a little disappointed in himself thinking that way. This job is all he ever wanted. He worked his arse off to get here and now it’s come to this; silently praying that he won’t get chosen to help do anything. How many people get to live out their childhood dream job? Harry was lucky enough to get to, and even though he’s sure that he’s a good officer, he doesn’t know how much good that can really do for others considering what’s already happened.

A quick look around the room tells Harry exactly what he already knows, which is that no one else seems to be struggling this much with the aftermath of that night three weeks ago. He can’t understand it. Many of the people in this room were there. Four of them were even on the case _with_ Harry, but they don’t seem to be bothered by the fact that someone died on their watch. A mother entrusted them with her safety and that of her child and every single one of them failed her.

She had told them how violent her husband had become over the years. Her tale didn’t sound any different from the others that featured an alcoholic abusive spouse, but this man wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t some raging alcoholic. He was smart. Clearly a lot smarter than the people currently sitting in this room because when he saw a window of opportunity to take his daughter and get the mother out of the picture for good he didn’t hesitate for even a second. He was caught that same night. The child now lives with an aunt and he will be in prison for the rest of his life, but that doesn’t seem like a fair trade. Is it really justice if her mother is gone forever too?

Harry is so caught up in the ‘should’ve could’ve would’ve _’_ spiral he often finds himself stuck in these days that he doesn’t realize the room has begun to empty without him. He stands up to follow the rest of the crowd, but a deep “ _Not you, Styles_ ,” makes him stop just short of clearing the door with his best friend.

Harry closes his eyes to escape the look of sympathy that Liam throws over his shoulder once he realizes Harry is no longer behind him. A mouthed ‘ _good luck’_ is all Harry gets before the door severs them, leaving him all alone with their boss.

“Yes, sir?”

Mr. Cowell stops packing up his things to motion for him to come closer. Harry really doesn’t want to do that but his fear of what would happen if he didn’t is much stronger than his desire to be noncompliant at the moment.

Harry stands across from the man whose sharp gaze used to scare the shit out of him back when he first began working here. His eyes are still just as piercing and fearsome as they’ve always been, but his hard expression only lasts a few seconds before it softens from what Harry assumes to be fondness.

“Styles- _Harry_ ,” he corrects with a sigh. Harry’s not sure he’s ever heard Mr. Cowell use his first name. He guesses he really has gone too far now that he is. Being so distracted and absent at work could only go unnoticed for so long before he’s chucked out for good. He’s surprised this day hasn’t come sooner. “How are you? And I mean how are you _really_?” Mr. Cowell asks out of nowhere. Harry was sure he’d get right to the sacking.

His answer is instinctive and quick. “I’m fine.”

His boss eyes him, clearly bored and unconvinced by Harry’s claim. He looks away from him to pack up his things from the meeting when Harry offers nothing else in response.

“You were late to the briefing.”

“I know and I’m truly sorry. I lost track of time. It won’t happen again.”

Mr. Cowell’s eyes briefly flash over him. Maybe he knows Harry’s lying. Maybe he sees what Liam saw earlier; a tired, beaten down version of the Harry who used to be so much better than this.

“It happened almost every day last week. And yesterday, you didn’t bother showing up at all. I think you were in the building for about fifteen minutes before you conveniently fell ill and then went home without anyone’s permission.”

When he strings it all together like that it does sound pretty bad. Harry goes to apologize again for being such a terrible employee but his chief speaks up first.

“Harry, I know that your last case ended with an… undesirable outcome.”

An undesirable outcome. That’s how his boss and everyone else who works here describes someone losing their life. Harry wishes he could think of it that way too. Like a football game he didn’t win or a batch of cookies that turned out a couple of shades darker than intended. His mother has always said he had a big heart; a sensitive, empathetic soul. He always thought she was just being a mum by telling him that, but now he’s not so sure. Maybe he’s not cut out for this line of work after all.

“I’m fine,” Harry repeats with false certainty.

“You’re not. And it’s okay to admit. I get it. We all get it. This is your first major setback, your first big disappointment. You’ve suddenly realized that you’re not Superman. You can’t save everyone and that harsh realization happens to us all at some point, but this one incident shouldn’t overshadow all of the great work you’ve done. You’ve always been a good officer. You’re one of the most dedicated people I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with, but I think this would be a good time for you to try your hand at a new project.”

Here it comes. And Harry honestly can’t even blame him. He’d fire himself too.

“These attempted kidnappings and ransom threats have caused a lot of panic and fear. We’ve been getting some requests for protective operatives while the case is being investigated and this extortionist is still at large.”

Harry forgot that there even was a kidnapper at large. This is exactly why he’s being fired right now or whatever Mr. Cowell is trying to let him down easy with.

“There was a request made last night by the CEO of Ace Records who is now being targeted and threatened as well. The person says he’ll take the CEO’s son if the CEO continues to not comply with the increasing demands of money. Since the father isn’t complying this will of course anger said person and then lead to the kidnapper attempting to follow through with the threat of taking said son and then just like that we’re in a full blown ransom/hostage situation and blah blah blah. You know how this goes.”

Harry has only been doing this for a couple of years but he’s been doing it long enough to know that blah blah blah usually doesn’t end well if the abductor isn’t caught right away. He’s also been here long enough to know when his chief is about to make a play of some kind.

“That is unfortunate,” Harry agrees, “But, sir? What does this case have to do with me? You’ve already assembled a team.” Harry had been relieved when his name wasn’t called to be a part of it, unlike Liam who looked over the moon to be chosen to head it up.

“Yes, we now have a team investigating, but that’s not enough to put this client’s mind at ease. He’d like someone looking after his son as well and I’m giving that responsibility to you. It’ll be a good change of pace. This office and the more extreme cases can be taxing. Honestly, I think it’s all too much for you at the moment. You need a bit of down time and this assignment will give you that opportunity.”

A new assignment? This definitely is not the future of well-deserved unemployment that he had anticipated.

“So, basically you want me to plant myself in the home to watch over this man’s son? Make sure no one snatches the kid up?” 

“Essentially, yes,” his chief confirms, “You’ve got it except for the kid part. He’s twenty-four years old.”

The deep frown that sets into Harry’s brow is instantaneous.

“Wait. He’s a grown man?”

“Some may beg to differ, but yes. He is,” Mr. Cowell says under his breath as he hands him a big thick envelope. “As I’ve said the client’s father is very affluent. Very high profile. His son is as well, but I’m certain it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

Harry peels back the flap of his briefing envelope for a peek inside.

“It’s probably easier to dissect all of that back at your desk.” Harry lets the flap snap shut, nodding quickly when Mr. Cowell offers him something that sort of resembles a grin. Maybe not. It’s hard to tell with him.

His boss dismisses him after assuring Harry yet again that this little reprieve will be a good thing. Harry isn’t so sure about that. He’s even less sure a few minutes later when he dumps all of the briefing info about his new client out on his desk. At this rate, He’s probably going to be here reading half of the day.

“What the heck is all of that?” he hears Liam ask while he’s nose deep in a magazine article from last year about the empire that is Ace Records and how it’s CEO just signed a new promising act; his son.

“This is my new assignment since I’m pretty much useless around here.” His boss didn’t say that outright, but that’s the gist of what Harry gathered since his new office is his client’s massive family home.

Liam picks up one of the hundreds of media clips spread across his desk. “Your new assignment is Louis Tomlinson?”

There’s something in his tone that makes Harry glance up at his friend.

“What? Why did you say his name like that?”

“Say it like what?” Liam frowns. “I didn’t say his name in any particular way, did I?”

“Yes.” Harry narrows his eyes at the partner and friend he’s known inside and out for years, since they were kids, and right now, he knows something that Harry doesn’t. “Your voice did a weird thing. _Why_ did your voice do a weird thing, Liam?”

Harry is trained to spot a liar in an instant and his best friend is doing a shitty job of trying to appear otherwise. He caves after only a few moments of Harry staring him down like a hawk.

“Alright, so maybe I know some people who know some people who’ve been part of his security detail for events before and maybe he’s known to be a bit…colorful. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“ _Colorful_.”

What the hell is that even supposed to mean?

“Okay, maybe a downright _handful_ would be a better descriptor, but I’m sure it’s all nonsense,” Liam assures him. “He’s a young, fresh, celebrity-type with a lot of money. You know how people talk.”

Harry does know. If he believed everything he heard and read, every officer in the building would be single handedly responsible for what happened three weeks ago. Harry knows that to be a lie because the only person to blame for that woman’s death is him.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. This break away from the office will be a good thing. And we’re going to catch this guy anyway. Then you’ll be back here with us, doing what you love,” Liam says with renewed confidence and a smile.

Harry nods his agreement, now feeling a bit more confident himself. This is just an upscale security gig. He’ll follow his client around and make sure no one adult-naps him or whatever while he’s walking down the street. He’s famous and probably used to getting his way about most things, but Harry’s going to be the one who’s _really_ in charge here. Surely his new client will understand that, downright handful or not. How hard could it be?

*

Harry shows up with Liam the next day at the address that was tucked inside of the Tomlinson file envelope. He had to consult the GPS several times to make sure they were going the right way when they pulled up outside of a house twice as big in person as it looked in all the photographs.

“Charming little place, isn’t it?” Liam chuckles as he cuts the engine.

It’s fucking massive. All Harry sees are wide windows and balconies over looking the garden, every single one of them providing the perfect entry route for someone trying to get inside. Most of his time today will definitely be spent setting up security and exploring all the ways a potential intruder could break in.

“After you,” his friend gestures once they reach the stone steps, letting Harry climb them first.

Harry politely taps against the door to alert his new client of his arrival, but it comes off much softer than he intended. It’s not as confident or sure as he’s feeling about today and this new job. He tries again, his knock much stronger this time, but when he does, the door slowly creaks open from the force of it. Harry’s fist freezes in mid-air, realizing it was left ajar.

His partner meets his eyes with the same look of concern and unease currently rolling through Harry’s stomach.

“Oh, God,” Liam breaths at his side. “ _Fuck_. You don’t think-?”

Harry doesn’t have time to think through all of the potential situations flying around in his brain at the moment, but he knows in his gut that this isn’t right. His focus upon seeing the house for the first time had mostly been the various windows that are no doubt poorly secured, but it seems this intruder walked right through the front door to get to what he wanted.

“I’m going inside. Call your team for backup. We may need it and there’s sure to be a ransom note.”

He should probably stay outside until their backup arrives. There’s no telling what they’re about to walk into, but the team could take up to half an hour to get here and this simply cannot wait. Harry widens the door and steps inside with Liam right at his heels just as he’s pocketing his phone.

They take cautious steps as they inch further inside of the large foyer. Harry’s on high guard, barely even breathing but ready for anything in case the person who forced the door is still inside somewhere. There are no obvious signs of a struggle so far, and yet Harry’s heart nearly jumps out of his chest from the sound of a loud crash somewhere above them.

“They’re still here,” Harry relays even though he’s sure Liam heard the commotion too. He rushes for the staircase, only slowing down once he reaches the top and can’t decide which room out of half a dozen to try first.

He strains his ears catching a series of bumps and groans followed by a sharp cry of pain coming from the first door on the left. Harry can only imagine the brutality that this bastard is inflicting. Liam meets his eyes, silently counting back from three with his fingers so they can take this person down together. When he reaches one, Harry heaves the door open expecting some large burly man in black to be waiting for them, but instead it’s two rather small men wearing sweats and t-shirts wrestling each other over what looks to have been a very successful Fifa match for one of them.

The two men, well, _boys_ really from how completely and utterly ridiculous they look rolling around together in a sea of spilled popcorn, look up when they realize they’re no longer alone.

“Sorry. But do I know you?” the one with darker hair pants from where he’s using all of his body weight to pin down the blond struggling to get away beneath him. Harry immediately recognizes the one on top as none other than his client, Louis Tomlinson. Harry has never seen the other man before. The one who’s face is currently pressed to the floor as he flails in vain.

“What’s going on in here?” Liam demands. “Let him go. You’re hurting him.”

Louis doesn’t exactly hurry to move.

“I’m not hurting anything except Niall’s ego, and he deserves it. He cheated,” Louis says with a swift poke to the man’s side. He snorts a laugh when the man, Niall apparently, groans aloud again with an insistent ‘ _Did not!_ ’ “Did _so_ ,” Louis maintains. “Facts are facts, Ni.”

Harry glances up at the large television screen in front of them with all the members of this poor man’s team celebrating their victory. He overhears his partner quietly calling his own team to tell them never mind once it becomes apparent that there is no _real_ emergency here. Liam’s first order of business upon walking in here had been to find out why one grown man had tackled another to the ground over a game, but all Harry wants is to know is why his new client who is currently being threatened with abduction left his front door open for literally _anybody_ to come in.

Harry blurts out exactly what’s going through his head, his annoyance only building the longer he thinks about it and stares as this careless man. “I’m glad everything is alright and that you’re safe, but you need to be more careful. Did you know your door was left standing open? Do you know how easy it would’ve been for someone to just walk right in here?”

His chastisement doesn’t make Louis look apologetic or contrite. “Oh. You mean someone like you?” he quips back.

Louis finally rolls off of his friend, though Niall looks anything but cordial when he finishes picking popcorn off of himself and smacks Louis across the arm in retaliation. Louis’ eyes narrow at him like he may hit Niall back or even go as far as to tackle him again, but surprisingly he lets the small offense go. How big of him.

“I wouldn’t have come in if I didn’t think you were in danger.” Harry had his eyes peeled for ransom notes and signs of abduction, not two idiots frolicking on the floor.

“Point taken, but you never really answered my question,” Louis pipes up. “Do I _know_ you?”

He doesn’t. And suddenly, Harry feels out of place having barged in here like a one-man army in casual dress while Liam is in uniform. He wonders if Liam is having the same kind of experience, but he seems mostly at ease now that he knows no one is hurt. He answers for them, in that incredibly kind and diplomatic way that only Liam could pull off.

“Um, no, Louis. You don’t know us. Not yet, anyway,” he says brightly. “I’m officer Liam Payne and this is officer Harry Styles. I’m the head of the team who’s going to be working on this case and Harry here will be your protective operant while we catch this man.” Liam introduces them with an easy smile that immediately draws Louis up to his feet to come shake his hand.

“So, you’re the big boss man, then?” Louis smiles back at him. “Thanks for coming all the way out here today, mate. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Harry holds out his hand, assuming that Louis will come to him next but all he gets is a quick glance-over from a pair of icy blue eyes and a dismissive, “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Harry lets his hand drop back to his side. He wasn’t expecting that. Nor does he expect the way Louis straight up ignores him for the next ten minutes as he and Liam chat about everything from the weather to their favorite features of the game that he and Niall had been playing. They become fast friends in the short span of time, also realizing that they know a lot of the same people in security detail. Niall has gone back to the giant sofa in front of the tv, now flipping through channels, and Harry is just standing there, wondering when he became invisible.

Liam, bless him, seems to notice all of the conversation is being monopolized by Louis and himself so he attempts to steer it in Harry’s direction to include him.

“That would be fun,” Liam says in answer to Louis inviting him over for a tournament one day like they’ve known each other for years. “But, unfortunately, I won’t really be around here much unless I have questions or the team needs you for something case related. However, I’m sure you can talk Harry into playing sometime. He’s really good to have around, especially in a tight spot. If I could choose anyone in the world to have my back, Harry would be at the top of my list.”

He receives high praise from Liam, though he’s not sure of how much good it’ll do. His client’s eyes curiously flit over him for a second time, slowly taking him in. Instead of insisting that he doesn’t need a bodyguard again, he nods once; quick and simple so Liam knows he was listening. It’s not much, but it’s loads better than where they were earlier.

Harry assumes he must be in the clear now; a somewhat alright guy by Louis’ standards since Liam has now given his stamp of approval and he’s yet to be thrown out of the house. Harry moves in for attempt number two and extends an open hand towards him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Louis.”

At first, Louis glances down his nose at Harry’s hand like he still may not shake it. The suspense is excruciating. Harry’s never felt this uncertain about an interaction in his life, but then, by some miracle, Louis decides to meet him halfway. Their hands tighten around one another, instantly releasing some of the anticipatory tension that had built up in Harry’s chest.

Louis only holds his hand and his gaze for a beat or two, but his blue eyes aren’t quite as sharp as before when they let go. Harry’s hesitant to do or say anything more. It’s like he’s meeting a wild grizzly for the first time instead of a petite boy with caramel honey hair.

The situation between them is much improved. Thank God. Liam seems to feel the positive shift too after a few minutes. He obviously feels so good about it that he feels comfortable leaving him alone. He says his goodbyes while insisting that he should get back to the station and let Harry get to work.

Harry has to force himself not to pull Liam back by his jacket when he leaves. Liam was the buffer in this situation and a damn good one at that. Now that he’s gone all Harry has to focus on is Louis and his friend Niall both staring at him with bored expressions and mild expectation. Having _two_ pairs of eyes glued to him like this is mildly unsettling, but he forces himself to talk anyway.

For him, a light, icy-blue trumps the pale greyish variety of Niall’s eyes any day, so that’s where Harry focuses all his attention. Right on Louis. “So, Um- Like Liam said, I’ll be here a lot. You and your dad shouldn’t have to worry about someone causing you harm, but to keep that level of comfort we should all talk about some key factors in keeping you safe and the house secure.” One of those key factors being closing and locking the goddamn door. “It’d actually be great if we could all chat today. Is your father in right now by any chance?”

“God, no,” Louis scoffs. “And he won’t be anytime soon either. He hasn’t lived here in years.”

“Really? But I thought he stayed here too.” The fact that he apparently does not is news to him. In every article he’s read about their professional lives Louis and his father are the perfect duo. He assumed that closeness bled into their personal lives as well. At least that’s what all of his briefing information led him to believe anyway.

“Well, someone misinformed you just like the rest of the world. My dad can’t stand being here and no one else lives here anymore either so you’re stuck with just me.”

Just Louis. Harry had been preparing to work with Louis, his father, and anyone else residing in the house. This new development makes his life and his job so much easier.

“That’s actually good to know. Obviously your dad cares about you a great deal and now I’ll get to devote all of my time and attention to keeping you safe throughout all of this.”

Louis’ eyes roll so far back in his head that Harry’s sure he can see Niall, pretending to not listen to them. “I’ve already told you, I don’t even really need a bodyguard. He doesn’t care about _me_. The fear of someone prying his money out of his hands in _exchange_ for me is the only reason you’re here.”

His client’s harsh words sting against his ears. “Surely that’s not true.” Maybe Louis and his father have their differences. All relationships do, but it can’t be as bad as all that.

“Believe whatever you want,” Louis shrugs before turning to rudely flop down on his glorious sofa that must feel like a cloud. It sure looks like one.

Immediately, Louis’ attention is drawn to the random movie that Niall has finally decided on. He settles down next to his friend as if Harry isn’t even standing there, one-half of an aborted, much needed conversation.

This won’t do. This lackadaisical approach to Harry and his purpose here. He has work to do and it starts with teaching Louis Tomlinson how to properly latch a door.

“So, about that little chat I mentioned earlier,” he begins over the noise pulsing from the surround sound after Louis turns up the volume.

Harry’s voice carries over it and Louis spares him a fleeting glance. “Yeah, let’s do that later.” It’s so loud in here now that Harry can’t be sure, but he _thinks_ he heard a distinct ‘ _Or never’_ follow that last sentence.

 _This_ must be why his client has the reputation of being difficult or _colorful_ as Liam said to try and bullshit him. Harry is fresh off of a failed case. A case in which somebody _died_. It’s not going to happen again or even come close to it just because Louis Tomlinson is a power hungry stubborn brat who’s too lazy to close his own front door behind him.

“ _Now_ works better for me,” Harry informs him.

“Oh, that’s great, mate. Too bad it doesn’t exactly work for _me_ ,” Louis mumbles. Niall cracks a smile at Louis’ tone but it quickly disappears when he sees the stern determination on Harry’s face.

Harry crosses the room until he’s standing right in front them, blocking most of the action movie they’re now missing a large portion of.

“Let’s go. We’ll start downstairs,” he says with as much gentle force as he can manage without straight up telling Louis to get off his spoiled arse.

Louis breaths a little laugh to himself like he’s certain Harry isn’t serious, but he is. Harry doesn’t move. Not even an inch. He stands there in the way of their high-speed chase having a stare-off with a two-year old disguised as a grown man. And just like every difficult child that Harry’s ever encountered, eventually Louis cracks, rolling his eyes as he grudgingly pushes himself onto his feet.

“Whatever. Fine. Lead the way if you must,” he says, only sounding slightly sarcastic as he does so.

Louis doesn’t take any part of Harry’s initial walkthrough seriously. Louis tours him around the perimeter of the house in a range of emotions ranging from apathy to practically comatose. Granted, Harry just showed him how to properly use and operate a door for nearly ten minutes, but still, Louis could’ve at least tried to look interested in preserving his own safety.

“Riveting,” he says as Harry leans his head forward with the closing door until he hears the almighty _click_. Again.

“See, it’s easy! The magic is in hearing the lock or latch _catch_ ,” Harry smiles. “Do you want to try it?”

“What? Oh, no, no. I’m good. You’re doing splendid. I’m more of a visual leaner, myself. I’ve now got it all up here.” Louis taps his temple and Harry’s only ninety-nine percent sure that he’s being an arse.

“Okay, lets move on to the formal sitting area and the dining room. Then we can walkthrough the kitchen and the garage next.” From what Harry could tell outside, there’s probably a dozen windows just between those few rooms and he’s sure that many of them will only have the illusion of being locked.

He stands up and Louis follows behind him dutifully before flopping down on the sofa exactly beneath the large bay window that Harry is trying to check.

“So, what do I call you?”

Harry glances down at him all sprawled out on the cushions like Harry isn’t trying to work here.

“Er- Whatever makes you feel comfortable. Harry is fine with me.”

“Harry, huh? So, not detective or officer or Master Styles?” The smirk that tugs at Louis’ lips almost makes Harry want to accept this little small talk truce with a tiny smile of his own because at least Louis isn’t pushing him away anymore. He even remembered Harry’s last name from earlier when Harry was sure he wasn’t paying attention to him at all.

“ _Harry_ will be fine. No need for formalities,” he says, deeming this window secure when he can’t wiggle it open after several attempts. He moves on to the one right beside it.

He expects Louis to stay where he is until they move onto the next room, but he gets up to follow him.

He follows him rather closely too. Harry starts a bit when Louis’ next question comes from directly behind him.

“So, what makes you such a great protector, then? Liam says you’re amazing. What are your skills?”

Harry tries to focus on the task at hand with this new window, but it’s hard when he’s also watching Louis watching him out of his peripheral vision.

“Like, do you know how to fight?” Louis presses.

His questions aren’t overly critical. They are definitely more of a curious nature, so Harry indulges him.

“Yes. I’ve been formally trained in combat.” He’s also been kickboxing since he was fourteen but that’s not in his official record.

“Really?” Louis raises a brow and gives an interested hum. “Can you shoot a gun? Get me out of a crisis?” he challenges.

“If I have to,” Harry answers as he runs his fingers along the lower pane of the glass.

“ _Huh_. Wow,” Louis says approvingly, actually sounding impressed with him for the first time. Harry sees Louis’ gaze shift to his biceps while he works, each of them straining as he attempts to pry the window from it’s locked position.

“And, are you like, super strong?” he asks. Harry’s sure he’s imagining the way Louis seems to have gotten a step closer to him. “Like, theoretically, could you lift me? Pick me up? Throw my weight around without breaking a sweat? Maybe even manhandle me a bit if _absolutely_ necessary?”

The window flies open, the sound of it snapping against the upper pane catching Harry off-guard almost as much as Louis’ bizarre line of questioning.

Harry doesn’t even know where to start with assuring his client that he’s in good hands. The people he’s worked with in the past typically want to know about his background and what he’s capable of, though, none of them has ever interrogated him quite like Louis. No one has ever batted their eyes at him like they’re waiting for a real-life demonstration either.

That is sure as hell not happening.

Harry turns to him, finding his client looking more amused than anything. It has a weird effect on him, almost making him feel flustered. He doesn’t know why his stomach suddenly fluttered to life when his fingers lost their grip either. He blames it on this shitty window lock that he’s now going to have to replace so that his client isn’t abducted in the middle of the night.

“Louis, I want you to know that you have _nothing_ to worry about. I need you to trust in me and the fact that I can protect you in any situation,” he promises. “…Even in ones that might require me to pick you up,” he adds after Louis tilts his head in wait. Harry has no idea why he’d ever _need_ to do that in the first place, but it’s obviously a concern of Louis’ so he addresses it. He also doesn’t know why that question in particular sounded so _dirty_.

“Alright, alright. If you’re sure,” Louis shrugs. The impish smirk that he’s not even attempting to hide lets Harry know that his inquiry may not have been as innocent as he’d have it seem. “I was just seeing the type of person I’m going to be practically living with for the foreseeable future, officer _._ ”

There’s a pool house not even fifty yards from where they’re standing. It shouldn’t happen, but if he ever needs to stay here out of concern for Louis’ safety it’ll be the perfect place for him to be present without intruding. Or, in times of great desperation when he’s about to lose his mind because his client is a literal menace, a safe place to escape.

“I’ll stay out of your hair for the most part. And, I thought we agreed on Harry?” he asks, just now noticing that Louis didn’t call him that at all.

“No, no. _You_ agreed, my friend. _I_ did no such thing,” Louis clarifies. Harry will pretty much answer to whatever Louis wants to call him, but he draws the line at Master.

He’s able to feel his client’s grin and mocking gaze aimed to his back as they move on to the next room.

Harry sighs after he checks for the time. Louis pays no mind of course, continuing right on with his new game of asking Harry whether he’s more Liam Neeson in _Taken_ or Daniel Craig playing James Bond in terms of being a badass. Harry’s only been here a grand total of about an hour and already he’s exhausted. It’s going to be a _very_ long day.

*

Although the sun was quite high in the sky when he first started assessing the house, it was still technically morning. It’s past noon now; twenty minutes until five to be exact, and Harry is still working on making the Tomlinson household as secure as possible to keep out any unwanted visitors.

Niall, the unfortunate winner of that Fifa match earlier, left hours ago to go be with his girlfriend once he realized his best friend would be otherwise occupied for the rest of the day. And Louis, though he wasn’t ever much help in the first place, started complaining that he was tired and bored so Harry let him scamper off to go have a lie down.

It was easier that way; _quieter_ that way, really.

This security check shouldn’t have taken more than a couple of hours to do, but as it turns out, Louis is like a tornado when it comes to staying on track.

Like the alarm system for example, which had to be reset because Louis claimed he couldn’t remember the six-digit code when Harry asked. Getting him to memorize the new one took way longer than should’ve been necessary, though Harry suspects Louis kept reciting numbers backwards just to fuck with him. He does little things like that. Like talking Harry’s ear off with a never-ending list of nonsense topics for instance, but it’s better than the coldshoulder treatment that Harry received upon arriving.

Now, Harry’s working alone in the beautiful quiet installing the last few surveillance cameras that the station sent over. So far, he’s covered the outside, front and back doors of the house, the garage, foyer, and all of the other major rooms downstairs. The left wing upstairs has been done too which included a study, the entertainment room that he first met Louis in, and two guest bedrooms. All that’s left to cover now is the right wing which includes two more guest rooms, a mini-studio, and the master bedroom where Louis has been shut up for the past twenty minutes.

Harry steadies himself on the dining room chair he’s been using as a ladder to carefully connect one of the cameras to its hidden cable inside the wall. He has just about got it connected when the quick sound of a door slamming into a wall fills the open space of the empty corridor. The commotion takes Harry by surprise, his eyes wide and balance off-center as he tries to find the source.

The culprit is Louis of course. He’s the only other person in the house and besides that, Harry’s convinced he’s the only other person in the world who could be so bloody loud.

Harry watches him stroll out of his bedroom dressed in an outfit much different than the comfy-looking one he was wearing earlier when he claimed he needed a nap. He’s in tight, dark jeans now with a thin, white t-shirt whose hem hangs a bit too far past his middle, but otherwise fits him well. He looks good; like the soon-to-be music superstar Louis from the photos inside of his briefing envelope rather than the trying version of him that Harry’s been with all day.

He doesn’t bother to shut his bedroom door- no surprise there- but approvingly pats his back pocket to make sure his phone and wallet are in place. He only notices Harry when he plucks his shades from his messy caramel hair and slides them down over the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t see you there,” he greets offhandedly like he didn’t just single-handedly scare the living shit out of Harry by bursting out of his room like that. There’s a slight pause in his movements when he glances at Harry and the piece of expensive furniture that he’s currently standing on with his bare feet, but he says nothing about it.

“Well, I’m off. See ya,” he says throwing Harry a quick salute before descending the stairs.

Harry nearly falls again as he turns his head to watch Louis disappear from sight. “What? O-Off to where exactly?” He waits, but receives no answer. He shoves his feet back into his shoes and abandons his makeshift ladder to hurry after him.

He catches up with his client just as he reaches the foyer.

“Hey, wait a minute. Where are you going?”

“Out,” Louis answers matter-of-factly, now tapping away on his phone. He sends off one quick text before getting to work on another.

“I thought you were going to rest for a while?” That’s what he _said_ he was going to do anyway. Louis gives an unbothered shrug of his shoulders as he reaches the door.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I changed my mind. I want to go shopping instead and then I’m going to get dinner with some mates.” He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “That’s not going to be a problem is it?”

It’s inconvenient as fuck because Harry still has things he needs to do here, but it’s not an actual problem per se. He can always do them later.

“No, that’s fine, Louis. You can go shopping and out to dinner with your friends. Just not by yourself, remember?”

A scoff is all Harry gets in response, though it’s not like he didn’t expect one after putting a small dent in Louis Tomlinson’s plans.

“No offense, but I don’t need an extra shadow following me around. I know how to take care of myself.” It sounds a lot like when he said he didn’t need a bodyguard, but there’s less bitterness in his voice this time. Harry isn’t the enemy here. Maybe Louis is slowly starting to realize that… or maybe not since he’s currently staring daggers at him.

“I know you don’t and I know you can, but I still have to come with you.” Harry would never forgive himself if something were to happen to Louis because he didn’t stand his ground. “I promise to stay out of your way. You won’t even know I’m there most of the time, but I cannot let you go alone. I’m sorry.”

Louis drops his hand from the doorknob and leans his back against the threshold. He lets his head rest against it as well as if it weighs a ton. He pushes his shades up into his hair revealing tired eyes and Harry feels kind of sorry for him.

This arrangement can’t be easy. Going from living life normally to needing someone with him at all times, but it’s in his best interest.

“I know it may feel like it now, but I promise you this won’t last forever. It’s just until this man is caught. Then things will go back to their natural order and you’ll only have security detail to terrorize for big events,” Harry offers with a small smile of encouragement.

Louis must find Harry’s joke at least slightly funny because he grins without meaning to. Or maybe he does.

“Ugh. Alright, fine. You’ve worn me down,” he sighs, though he doesn’t look too bothered by that fact. “Let’s go.” Harry had expected more huffing and puffing as a result of him not getting his way, but he just gets a resigned smirk instead that makes Harry feel like he’s doing something right for the first time in almost a month.

Harry pulls the door shut behind them and then waits expectantly to see if Louis will do what they practiced today and lock it, but he’s already halfway to the sleek black car waiting for him in the drive. Louis seems to be in quite a rush at the moment, so Harry will overlook his forgetfulness, but just for today. Harry rolls his eyes as he pulls out his fresh set of keys and locks the door himself. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

He slides into the backseat of the car after his client, listening as he lists off all of the shops he wants to visit to his driver. There are so many that Harry’s convinced they can’t make it to all of them today, but obviously Louis doesn’t share that concern. Harry assumes spur of the moment shopping sprees like this must be a regular occurrence in the life of a young star. And since Harry’s life now revolves around him, he guesses he better get used to it.

“So, Louis, while we’ve got some down time would you mind telling me a bit more about your schedule?” Harry asks, already grabbing his phone so he can take notes. He is charged with protecting Louis from the time he wakes to the time he goes to bed. Knowing the sorts of places he goes and the people he sees between those times will make it a lot easier. “How about we start with this current trip. How often do you shop during the week? More than once?”

Harry awaits a reply. He assumes Louis will give one once he’s finished sending the new text he’s been working on, but when Louis pockets his phone he ignores Harry’s question altogether.

“I have a much better idea,” he grins. “How about I just have someone send you a schedule and you can tell me how old you are instead?” Harry just blinks at him, his phone resting uselessly in his hand. Louis tilts his head in the same curious fashion as earlier when he asked Harry a million and one other random things. After that day-long interrogation, Harry figured there was nothing else about himself left to know. Clearly, he was wrong.

“I’ll be twenty-three in February,” he reveals after Louis stares him down through his sunglasses and arches a masterful eyebrow that practically forces his tongue.

“I _knew_ you were younger than me,” he grins to himself like he’s keeping score. Harry wouldn’t be surprised. “And where are you from? I can tell that it’s not here.”

“You’re right again,” Harry admits, ignoring the smug ‘ _Always am’_ that follows immediately after. “I’m actually from Cheshire. My family is still there in Holmes Chapel.”

“Small town boy with dimples moves to the big bad city to fight crime, huh?” he teases, splaying his hands in front of him like Harry’s life story is the title of some epic movie. “There’s nothing wrong with moving away from your family of course. I actually think that’s pretty brave.” People grow up and move away from home all the time. The way Louis says it makes it feel like something grand.

“So, give me the mental tour. What’s Cheshire like?” he asks.

He’s like a machine. Louis has another question ready as soon as Harry answers the last followed by a kaleidoscope of others ranging from his favorite Friends character to what made him want to work for the police.

He’s talkative and filled with more curiosity about Harry than anyone else has ever shown, but Harry doesn’t mind playing along. He’s also a shameless flirt when he wants to be. His sunglasses cover his eyes, so Harry gets stuck watching the shape of his mouth. He’s handsome. Extremely so even, so Harry forces himself to look elsewhere. Harry has enough going on without developing a weird pseudo-crush on the man he’s supposed to be protecting. It’s actually fun just having a normal conversation with him until he asks something that brings their entire conversation to a screeching halt.

 _“_ Have you ever killed someone in your line of work? And not just with your dashing smile.”  

Louis’ grin fades shortly Harry’s. He realizes his mistake almost immediately, probably because Harry can’t even look at him let alone actually answer.

He wants to say no, because in truth, he hasn’t ever taken someone’s life; not really. But, then he thinks back to nearly a month ago and how things could’ve ended differently had he just gone with his gut instinct and stayed at that family’s house a little longer. When he lays it out like that, it’s hard not to feel responsible.

Harry’s been quiet for so long that he almost forgets Louis’ in the car with him until he feels a warm hand tentatively settle on his forearm.

“You don’t have to answer,” he whispers, surprisingly with no judgment in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have even asked you that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.” Louis removes his hand when he sees Harry take a breath for the first time in the several seconds that have ticked by.

The silence and air inside the car feels heavy, almost like it’s too thick to take in, but eventually it thins out and breathing isn’t so hard. Harry’s chest stops feeling so tight too once they pull up outside of their first stop. At least they’ll get to leave this stuffy car for a while.

“So,” Harry clears his throat once the driver cuts the engine. “Like I said before, I’ll try to stay out of the way for the most part unless I feel like I need to intervene. However, if I’ve done my job right, you won’t even feel like I’m with you. But, at the same time, I’ll never be more than a few yards away if you need me,” he explains, glad to be discussing easy things. Things that he’s good at.

“Okay,” Louis nods. “Thanks. But, I shouldn’t need you. I’m just doing a bit of innocent shopping. Nothing dangerous.”

Children get abducted on shopping trips all the time, but Harry doesn’t point that out.

He follows Louis inside but stays at the front due to the shop’s size. It’s not very big at all and relatively void of other customers. Harry has visibility of the entire space, so he lets his client wander it freely as he picks up random items of clothing and buys every single one of them.

The next shop they visit isn’t much bigger than the last, but there are wall dividers and lots of other shoppers walking about that make it difficult to keep track of Louis so Harry trails behind him at a distance.

Everywhere they go, people recognize Louis and walk right up to him, throwing their arms around him like they’re best friends. Harry tries to control each situation by allowing his fans get a picture like they want, but Louis hugs everybody back and strikes up conversations like he’s known these people for years; much like he did with Liam when they first met.

Most of his fans are all the same: young, usually female, sometimes in pairs or groups, and very much bold and outgoing just like their hero. It’s the men who are much older than Louis and himself and who don’t fit in with his clear demographic that puts Harry on edge. He can’t understand why they’d relate to music geared towards young adults or why they even recognize Louis to begin with. Some claim to want pictures for their children, but Harry is suspicious of them all the same. Louis of course doesn’t seem to distinguish between any of the people who approach him. He welcomes them all, so it’s up to Harry to decide when his fans start feeling a little too familiar with him and cross the line.

Harry slides back into the car after his client once they leave the last shop.

“They’re not going to hurt me, you know. They just want to come say hi,” Louis says in defense of his fans who got so excited upon seeing him that the shop had to close early just to get them to leave.

Louis is pretty much an open book with his fans. Harry sees that now after watching him interact with them, but it’s not the smartest approach for Louis to take when there’s one known person out there who _does_ mean to cause him harm.

“We can’t know that. Not for sure anyway,” Harry counters. “I know you think you can trust them all, but we have to be safe. We have to take those extra precautions.”

“No one is out there lurking around trying to kidnap me, alright? They’re just not.” He snaps in an instant, his fists rigid and balled up in his lap like he wants to say a lot more.

His change in attitude is so quick that it takes Harry by surprise considering how well they’ve been getting along. Louis’ annoyance with him only makes Harry adopt a similar mood. He’s just doing his job here. It’s not his fault that Louis has become a fucking target and doesn’t seem to give a shit.

“No offense, but have you not been paying attention to what’s happening at all? Have you not heard the awful messages that this person has left for your dad _about_ you?” Harry can’t get that garbled voice out of his head. He has no idea how Louis was quick to forget it.

“ _Yes_ ,” he says with a clenched jaw. “I’ve heard them all and they’re just words. He’s just trying to scare my father so he says whatever he thinks will make him act. Jesus, it’s not like he’s actually going to go through the trouble of coming to snatch me up. _Money_ is what he really wants. _That’s_ what he’s after.”

“Yes, he wants money and he will use _you_ to get it,” Harry all but shouts in the small space of the car. He doesn’t understand how Louis doesn’t see that.

Louis stares out of his window almost like he’d rather punch it or throw Harry out of it rather than having to endure this conversation.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Everybody is completely overreacting. I’m going to be just fine.”

He thought they were past this; this immature back and forth, but it just keeps coming back.

“I hope for your sake, Louis, that you’re right,” he says earnestly. Harry ignores the quick, ‘ _I always am’_ that directly follows his statement.

There’s a shift after that. Like a puzzle that got jostled and then disconnected because someone left it sitting too close to the edge. Louis doesn’t tease him about his interests or ask him any more questions. He hardly even looks at Harry when they pull up outside of the house.

Louis’ been giving him the same dead-faced expression ever since dinner when even his close friends insisted that Harry being here to protect him is a _good_ thing. Louis said nothing in response to this of course, only confirming the fact that he really doesn’t understand the gravity of his own situation.

Harry shuts the front door behind them after Louis breezes through it without so much as a word in his direction. His footsteps echo throughout the empty house as he climbs the steps. The last thing Harry hears from him is the quick snap of his bedroom door.

He seems quite skilled in making sure _that one_ is closed nice and tight.

This has been the longest day of Harry’s life and unfortunately, it’s not even over yet. He sighs remembering the last few cameras he never got to install because his client wanted to waste the afternoon prancing through clothing shops, swiping his credit card left and right, and chatting up pure strangers.

He kind of just wants to walk back out the front door and pretend this day never happened, but he drags himself back upstairs to where he left his equipment. He gets back to work, moving quickly through the two guest rooms and the mini-studio that Harry doesn’t get a chance to properly admire, but he definitely wants to come back another day for a better look around.

The room is filled with random instruments and stacks of journals filled with Louis’ scribbled handwriting strewn all over the desk. There are pictures on every surface and hanging from every wall, which wouldn’t ordinarily be a strange thing except that these are the only photographs that Harry’s seen in the house. There’s so much art decorating the interior of the Tomlinson’s home that Harry hadn’t even noticed the lack of family portraits. They all seem to be crammed in here, though Harry has no idea why. Nor does he know why the majority of them feature a dark-haired woman he’s never seen or heard anyone mention. He assumes it’s Louis’ mother. It has to be, though there was no information about her in his briefing. Maybe she moved out on Louis too.

“ _Big Brother’s_ going to be watching me in here as well, I guess.”

Harry turns towards the door to find Louis leaning inside of it. He was so mad at Harry about his fans earlier that Harry didn’t think he’d see Louis again tonight.

“Hello again. And I already told you these cameras aren’t here for you. They’re for the house. You don’t even need to have them on unless you’re gone or at night when you’re asleep.”

Harry is only one person. He can’t be everywhere and watch over every entry point in the house _and_ Louis at once, but these cameras will be able to catch anything he misses.

“I thought you’d still be pissed at me,” Harry says when he can feel Louis just standing there watching him work.

“Who says I’m not?” Louis quips right back. He blinks down at the floor, his crossed arms falling to his side after a few beats. “I’m not. Not really,” he admits. “I was pretty annoyed with you though. Like, I know you’re a cop, but God, do you have to be _such_ a cop about everything including my fans? They’re harmless,” he says, the edge of irritation still lingering in his voice from earlier.

He assumes Louis’ definition of him being a cop is Harry doing his job. They’ve gone over this all day and Louis still doesn’t seem to get it. Harry isn’t here as a punishment. He’s here because Louis’ life and his safety could be in jeopardy at any moment and Harry was the sad sap who got hand-picked to come make sure that doesn’t happen. Protecting Louis should have the title of hardest job in the world because he’s is so fucking stubborn it’s almost impossible to do.

Harry sighs, letting his hands rest on the desk in front of him, head hung low. He’s tired. This job was supposed to be a break for him. It was supposed to be a way for him to slowly ease back into the swing of things while he copes with his last case, but so far it has been anything but.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he admits. He’s tried everything he can think of when it comes to Louis. The fact is, he doesn’t want Harry here. He doesn’t want anyone here because to him, this is all just a huge overreaction.

Louis clearly doesn’t know what he wants from Harry either because they just stand there blinking at each other until Louis grows tired of holding his gaze.

“I’m going to bed,” he announces. “You can let yourself out.” He pushes himself from the doorway, his eyes draw to the photograph that Harry’s hand is about three inches away from touching. “And please be careful with my mother’s pictures. They’re the only ones I have left.”

Harry glances at the photos covering the walls, the surfaces, the everywhere. He turns towards the door again for an explanation as to what happened to all of the others, but when he does, Louis is already gone.

*

Harry’s head hits his pillow like a rock later that night. All he was able to accomplish upon walking through his door was to turn on his laptop and pull up the surveillance feed of Louis’ house. After that, he stripped down and collapsed onto his bed. He was too tired to even bother with pulling back his sheets so he fell asleep on top of them instead, spent and without a single care in the world.

The next morning proves to be a lot less care free when an incoming call wakes him before his alarm set for six-thirty. He feels around the bed for his phone, frowning when he realizes the sound is coming from his jeans crumpled on the floor where he left them.

His eyes are still mostly closed when he slides off the mattress to retrieve it but he’s able to make out his best friend’s name and face illuminating his screen.

“Li, whatever it is, it’s too early,” he mumbles as he presses the button for speakerphone. Harry lies down right where he is, using his clothes from yesterday as his new pillow. His eyes fly open when Liam responds in a tone that reads all business. And not the good kind.

“Sorry to wake you, but you need to get over here. There’s been a new development with your client… and Mr. Cowell wants to see you. He said as soon as possible.”

Harry sits up so quickly that his head spins. What could’ve possibly developed in the few hours since Harry’s been home? When he left Louis’ house last night he was safe and sound and practically barricaded inside of his massive house.

Harry stumbles to his desk to check the video feed. He starts it at ten o’clock and then speeds through, finding nothing amiss until around midnight when Louis gets out of bed, shuts off his bedroom camera, and is seen leaving the house dressed to go out not even twenty minutes later. Harry keeps running the feed, looking for the timestamp of Louis’ safe return, but there isn’t one. He didn’t come back.

“Where is he? What happened?” Harry can hear the desperation in his own voice. Louis should never have left the house without him. If he wanted to go somewhere he was supposed to call Harry so he could go with him. _That_ was their arrangement. Louis didn’t even send him a fucking text.

“He’s fine, Harry. Calm down. He’s here at the station. We picked him up from a friend’s house about an hour ago. He’s alright.”

The sigh of relief that Harry breathes is laced with annoyance and the strong desire to punch Louis Tomlinson in his gorgeous, high-profile face because whatever happened last night is sure to be his fucking fault. He doesn’t understand why Louis always does the exact opposite of whatever he says.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’m leaving now. Make sure he stays there. Chain him to a bench if you have to,” Harry says, already moving to throw on some clothes.

“Okay, we’ll see you in a few minutes,” Liam confirms, “But, go easy on him, Haz. He’s still pretty shaken up.”

Harry’s pauses where he was just combing through his closet for a fresh shirt. The anger he felt just seconds ago fades when he puts his own judgments aside and remembers that at the end of the day, Louis’ human. An annoying, stubborn, self-destructive, adult-age human of course, but a person nonetheless. He is going to make mistakes. Even if those mistakes are completely avoidable almost one-hundred percent of the time if only he’d listen to reason.

When he arrives at the station Mr. Cowell is waiting for him in his office. It’s a room that Harry has only been inside of a handful of times. Most were generally pleasant. This occasion however doesn’t quite fall into that laid-back category.

The person threating to kidnap Louis and hold him for ransom has stepped it up a notch. Harry leafs through twenty-seven pictures of his client which look almost like the paparazzi photos from his briefing envelope, however they get much closer and intimate and much weirder the longer Harry flips through them.

There are pictures of Louis in places that a pap would never be able to gain entry into like the inside of restaurants and nightclubs including the one that Louis snuck off to last night with his friends. The most disturbing photos however are the ones taken of Louis from close vantage points on his own property. The few from outside the clothing shop that include Harry in the background with yesterday’s date in the timestamp make him want to be sick.

Mr. Cowell doesn’t even wait for him to finish flipping through the last of them before speaking.

“He sent those to Louis and his father last night from a secure server, and that was only after he contacted Louis directly by phone and told him that he was being watched. Obviously, I sent someone to pick him up right away so he was out of harm’s way,” he explains, “But my question is _why_ I needed to do that.” Harry winces, having anticipated his boss saying something like that. “Where were you? Certainly not with him.”

Harry doesn’t really have an explanation that won’t make him sound completely incompetent for not being able to keep tabs on his own client or petty for whining about Louis not listening to him.

“I was at home, sir. I didn’t know Louis went out last night. I just found out this morning. It won’t happen again,” he promises.

His chief sighs just like he did on the morning he told Harry he needed a break. “I don’t know what’s going on with you. I thought you could handle this assignment.”

“I-I can. I _am_. This was just a- a-” A grown man sabotaging his career little by little because he’s a stubborn _ass_. “It was a miscommunication. This was just a one-time slipup.”

“I sure hope so,” he says after several agonizing beats of dead silence. “Because as you can see, we can’t really afford for this to happen again. This man is already too close for comfort.” His chief’s eyes fall on the stack of photos of Louis, the one on top sending a fresh chill down Harry’s back because it was taken from just outside Louis’ kitchen yesterday morning before he and Liam got there.

He finds Louis in one of the conference rooms upstairs sitting by the window watching the city come to life in the morning sun. Louis glances over his shoulder when he hears Harry enter the room, but doesn’t say anything. He looks like a night out, still dressed in the outfit he threw on before sneaking out of his house, but the slight dip in his shoulders makes his exhaustion evident. It’s in his eyes too when he meets Harry’s gaze, no longer their usual sharp electric-blue, but tired and weary looking like all he wants is to go home.

“Are you ready to go?” Harry asks.

“Yeah,” he nods, eyes trained back on the view outside. “Ready.”

“I’m going to have to come with you,” Harry warns. “I know you hate that, but they won’t let you leave on your own. Not after last night.” Harry wants to lay out all the facts right here and now. He doesn’t have the energy to argue with Louis over whether or not he’s capable of getting himself back home. However, from the looks of it, neither does Louis.

“Yeah. I know,” he says.

Louis stands up, abandoning the small cup of coffee he didn’t even drink on the window sill. Harry didn’t expect this to go this smoothly at all. He came in here prepared for battle, but shockingly, Louis isn’t putting up a fight.

“Thanks for coming with me. Excuse me,” Louis says as he steps around him.

Harry expected that even less.

Louis rests his head against the car door as soon as he shuts it behind himself. Harry turns the ignition and pulls out onto the street, slightly concerned about the quiet boy in the passenger’s seat. He’s usually talking faster than Harry can think and respond.

Liam had warned him that Louis was a bit shaken up. He’s definitely acting strange right now. Neither of them has mentioned the photos or the phone call that Louis received, but the gravity of it all hangs heavy between them.

“Are you feeling alright?” Harry asks, trying to lighten the mood as he makes another turn taking them further outside of the city.

“I’m okay. I’m just tired.”

Harry can tell. Louis’ only ever been this quiet when he was mad at Harry for something, but even then he’d at least take the time to glare at him angrily. Right now he’s just watching the trees pass by outside the window.

“…Do you want to talk about what happened?” Harry tries after another long bout of silence. Louis doesn’t seem like the natural sharing type, but maybe he is in last night’s case.

“There’s not much to say, really. You were right. About all of it.” Harry has only known Louis for a day, but he knows enough about him to realize how hard that must’ve been for him to admit. Harry doesn’t know what to say. He’s still trying to come up with something when Louis speaks up again. “I’m sorry by the way. For everything. I should’ve listened to you.”

“It’s alright. We can just move forward from here. You don’t have to apologize to me, Louis.”

“Yeah, but I should though.” Harry doesn’t exactly disagree, but it’s not like he’s going to gloat and say I told you so either. That’s only going to make them both feel worse about his whole mess. Honestly, this isn’t the kind of situation that Harry _enjoys_ to be right about.

“Well, thanks. Apology accepted and in the past. Now, we can officially start fresh.”

“Okay. Good. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Louis.” An amused grin lights up Louis’ face for the first time since yesterday afternoon when he told Harry he had a dashing smile. A stubborn grin tugs at Harry’s lips too because this is how comfortable and smooth their first meeting should have gone anyway.

“Hello Louis. I’m Harry. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Harry feels silly playing along with Louis’ little game, but a do-over is exactly what they needed.

The car rolls to a stop outside of the house, but Louis doesn’t immediately move to go inside. He doesn’t attempt to go anywhere. He just stares up at it in silence.

“He was sneaking around out here, you know. He’s been here a lot actually. All over the property,” he says eventually. “I never even saw him.”

Harry wanted Louis to take this situation more seriously, but he didn’t want it to happen like this. He didn’t want him to be scared of his own home.

“I know. None of us realized how close he was getting to you. Did someone at the station talk to you about the added security? About me staying here for a little while until things cool down?”

Harry sure got an earful about it when he first stepped into his boss’ office. Louis didn’t call him last night when he decided to go out. But even if he had, there’s no guarantee that he would’ve waited for Harry to get there before leaving. Now Louis’ father wants him under constant watch to prevent him from sneaking off like that again.

“Yeah, Liam talked to me about it. I’m basically being babysat. I think I’ll feel better knowing somebody else is here with me at night though, so, thanks again,” he says.

Harry didn’t expect a full out brawl in response to his client finding out that he will basically be living here but he thought Louis would put up at least some kind of resistance. Louis has shocked him again though, leaving Harry unsure of what to say in the event of there being no big battle. In the end, a simple “You’re welcome,” feels good enough.

*

Liam comes over later that day to keep watch over Louis while Harry moves his things into the pool house. Louis was so exhausted when he got home that he carried himself straight to bed. He’s been sleeping off his wild night for hours now, making Liam’s job relatively easy and hassle free.

Lucky bastard.

“Oh, come on, Haz. He can’t be as bad as you say. He hasn’t even left his room all day.”

Harry blinks at Liam from around his punching bag that they’ve been fighting to hang for the last fifteen minutes.

“That’s because he used up so much of his energy sneaking out last night and causing mayhem that he can’t move. He’s regenerating,” Harry mumbles.

The punching bag slips out of Harry’s grip, causing Liam to grunt as he takes all of the weight. “You say it like he’s some evil mastermind. He writes and sings songs for a living and probably weighs less than _one_ of your arms. He’s harmless.” Liam rolls his eyes, still convinced that Louis is simply misunderstood and that there’s a beating heart of gold beneath all that flawlessly tanned skin.

“But he _is_ a mastermind, Li. That’s what I’ve been telling you. The Louis from this morning isn’t the _real_ Louis. He was quiet and agreeable. Usually, he’s like a tiny _Satan_ or something.”

His best friend snorts a laugh, but Harry isn’t joking. Harry didn’t even know what to do with the Louis from this morning. He kind of just wanted to hug him and tell him everything was alright.

“He is not,” Liam chuckles. “He actually likes you, Haz. You know what he told Mr. Cowell at the station after we picked him up?”

“I’m terrified to find out.”

Liam ignores him and pushes on anyway. “Cowell asked him if he’d prefer another officer since things seem so tense with the two of you, and he said no. He said you make him feel safe.”

Despite what Liam thinks, Louis is indeed a mastermind. There’s no way to get Harry to believe anything else, but, hearing that he really said something like that about him makes Harry think it a little less. “Well, he has a funny way of showing it,” he mumbles, sighing in relief when his punching bag finally hangs evenly from its chains.

“He obviously doesn’t like to take life too seriously,” Liam says. “I’m sure that bothers you and the two of you clash so much because you’re the exact opposite.”

Harry can’t argue with that. He has always been a person who follows the rules. He’s someone who enjoys procedure and guidelines because clear instructions leave no room for confusion or grey areas. Louis’ entire being is like a bloody grey area. There’s not a single straight line visible.

*

Satan rises and wanders into the pool house around five in the afternoon. Harry hears his footsteps on the concrete outside the door before he appears in front of it. He knocks courteously against the glass even though it’s standing wide open to let in the breeze.

“May I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” Harry waves him in. “It’s your pool house after all.”

“Well, not really,” Louis counters. “It’s yours for now.” He steps inside, his eyes slowly cataloging all of Harry’s belongings. “How are you? All settled?”

“Yep. I think so. I’ve got everything I need.”

Harry brought most of his clothes and personal things like his laptop and a few books with him. The punching bag was probably a bit much for a temporary move such as this, but he misses it when he’s not able to regularly use it. This housing arrangement could last for a few days or it could drag on for weeks. Harry just hopes Liam and the rest of the team catch this guy soon.

“Good. I want you to be comfortable. You’re welcome to anything in the house.”

He’s still just standing there after Harry thanks him for his hospitality. He seems a bit misplaced in the pool house that really only looks slightly different now that Harry’s stuff is inside of it. He’s dressed for bed with his hair more disheveled than Harry’s ever seen it. He keeps looking up at Harry like he wants to say something else but isn’t quite sure how.

Harry waits for him to mentally plan out whatever ridiculous or annoying thing he’s going to say.

“So, I don’t know if you’re hungry, but I’m going to make some breakfast. I can cook for two if you’re interested.”

 _Oh._ So, that wasn’t exactly the malicious thrashing that Harry was expecting. Louis’ offer actually sounds kind of nice. Harry’s been so busy today uprooting his life and transplanting it here that he hasn’t had a lot of time to devote to food.

“Okay, sure. Thank you, Louis. I’d love something to eat. But, don’t you mean you’re going to go cook _dinner_?” The sun will be going down in just a couple of hours. It’s already sitting low in the fall sky.

Louis glances at the clock hanging on the wall above Harry’s head and shrugs. “I just woke up ten minutes ago. It’s time for eggs,” he says.

And that’s all the explanation he receives before Louis gestures for Harry to follow him to the kitchen.

Watching Louis cook is quite the spectacle. Based on how impatient he is, Harry would have never guessed that he’d be able to do something that required hard focus for longer than a couple of minutes at a time. And besides that, from the size of this expensive house Harry just assumed that if cooking ever were to take place here, Louis wouldn’t be the one doing it. But, he’s proved all of Harry’s assumptions wrong because he’s got potatoes and bacon frying in one skillet and two cheesy veggie omelets cooking in another which is a lot more than Harry could ever hope to manage all at once.

“So, not only are you a famous singer, songwriter, and musician, but you’re a world-class chef as well?” Who knew? Harry’s certainly impressed. When Louis said he wanted eggs, Harry thought he’d scramble a few, burn them in the process, toss them onto a paper plate, and call it a day. Everything he’s prepared looks and smells amazing. Even if it is about ten hours too late.

Louis grins as he turns off the heat for both pans and grabs two plates from the cabinet nearest him. “Believe it or not, my kitchen skills weren’t always this amazing. They were pretty tragic at one time, but thankfully my mum set me straight.” Louis divides the food in half, a tiny grin still in place as he continues. “She definitely had her work cut out for her with me. I could hardly even crack an egg let alone fry one.”

Again, Harry is reminded of how very empty this giant house seems even with Louis’ big personality to fill it up. He claims that his father wants nothing to do with him outside of work. It’s obvious that there’s tension there, but Louis’ voice doesn’t harbor the same sort bite when he talks about his mother. He looks happy just thinking about her.

Several seconds pass where Harry wonders if he should ask. Technically, it’s none of his business, but Louis did just bring her up all on his own again. Louis has asked Harry more questions than he can count in the last two days. Asking just one of Louis doesn’t seem like so much in comparison.

“Where is she? Your mum? …If you don’t mind me asking.”

“No, I don’t mind,” he says. He sits their plates down at the table and then takes his seat across from him. “Um, she’s gone, actually. She had cancer.”

Harry had scooped up a spoonful of potatoes to try, but he doesn’t get any further with them than that. He puts his spoon down after Louis answers him, instantly regretting prying into Louis’ personal life.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s okay,” Louis shrugs off his apology. “It’s been years, so.”

Harry lost his grandparents years ago too, but that doesn’t make him love them or miss them any less. Harry still has the rest family as well. He still has a father, a step-father, and thankfully, a mother to turn to when he needs them. From what Harry can tell, Louis just has himself and yet his blue eyes manage to hold onto their brightness in spite of it all.

“What was her name?” Harry asks, watching those eyes of his brighten a bit more.

“Johannah,” Louis answers after swallowing a forkful of omelet and potatoes. “But, everyone called her Jay. I think she always preferred that because it was easier.”

His lips hold a small grin from getting to talk about her so Harry asks him another question just to see his face light up even more.

“What was she like?”

Harry listens to him talk for almost an hour about a woman he’s never even met and unfortunately, won’t get a chance to. It’s no different from any other time that Louis talks without end, except tonight, Harry doesn’t really mind. Actually, he doesn’t mind at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry wakes to the sound of his alarm a few days later, delirious and very confused as to why he isn’t in his bedroom in his home where he lives. It only takes a few seconds of his phone blaring at him and sunlight pouring in through the pool house windows for him to remember that for the time being, this _is_ where he lives.

He stops the racket his phone is making by allowing it to clatter to the hard floor when he kicks out of the set of miserable hot sheets encasing his body. It feels like he’s being suffocating inside this glass box of a room every day that he wakes up tangled in them. All he wants are his soft, thin sheets from his bed at home.

That, and he could also do with a few more hours of quality sleep.

Harry figured he was in for an early night when Louis said he just wanted to meet up with some friends for dinner. But dinner quickly turned into drinks at a pub, which then turned into the club across the street that they didn’t leave until after _three_ in the fucking morning.

According to the schedule that Louis’ people at the record label sent a few days ago, Louis has to come in for a meeting at the arse crack of dawn today. Ordinarily, Harry wouldn’t consider eight to meet arse crack qualifications, but he’s running on less than four hours of sleep right now and he’s exhausted. Anything before noon sounds like pure hell.

He throws a random shirt on over his joggers and then sleepily makes his way over to the main house after just a few more minutes of wallowing in bed about having to leave it. The scent of freshly brewed coffee makes him feel much better though. It practically slaps him in the face when he steps inside, luring him to the kitchen rather than up the stairs to wake his client like he had originally planned.

He hears Louis singing to himself and digging through cabinets before he actually sees him. Harry slumps into the room offering him a garbled good morning, however, the greeting dies on his lips when his eyes immediately fall to the thin towel slung low around Louis’ hips.

“Morning. Coffee?” his client chirps when he hears Harry enter the room.

Louis grins over his wet shoulder at him, water from his recent shower still clinging to the ends of his hair. Harry’s eyes follow the path of one brave droplet as it rolls down the center of Louis’ back all the way down between the two little dimples visible just above his towel.

The thought of where that droplet just disappeared to is enough to make Harry’s mouth water; though, that may just be the smell and promise of freshly ground caffeine filling the air.

Louis glances back at him again after he receives no answer, smiling harder this time when Harry’s eyes quickly dart in another direction.

“Coffee?” he repeats a bit louder.

Harry can’t even pretend like he wasn’t just staring, but in his defense he had a very long night with very little sleep so he’s barely even conscious. He hopes Louis can understand that and forgive his sleepless brain for operating like it’s going through a second puberty.

“Um, yes please. Sorry. I’d love some if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Louis assures him.

He grabs the mug that he just poured for himself and firmly press it into his hand. The front of Louis’ body is just as gloriously fit and wet as the back of it with tattoos all along his torso. It takes all of the self-control Harry possesses to keep his eyes trained on Louis’ face where they belong. That’s not much of a better alternative though considering the smug grin visible there.

“Here you are, officer. This one was going to be mine, but hopefully you take it the way I like it. Hot and with a very generous amount of cream.”

Harry takes the mug with a ‘thanks’ he utters a beat too late to be able to pretend Louis isn’t alluding to more than just the way he likes his dark roast.

At this point, Harry’s feeling kind of attacked. Besides seamlessly weaving sexual innuendos into what could’ve been a completely _normal_ interaction between them, Louis also looks incredible and is very well aware of it. He looks amazing. Not at all like someone who spent his entire night drinking his weight in tequila and then welcoming every person who approached him with open arms. The fact that he isn’t even slightly hungover only further confirms Harry’s suspicions that he’s an evil genius mastermind. Either that or he just has a really high tolerance level.

Once the room is sufficiently charged with awkward sexual energy (thanks only to Louis), he turns away to go fix himself a new mug. Harry wills himself to look somewhere else, anywhere else besides the outline of his perfect bum.

“So, I told my driver to be here in about twenty minutes. Will that work for you?” he asks. He had figured Louis would still be dead to the world at this hour. Harry was prepared to pry him out of bed using the jaws of life, but he’s already up and closer to being ready than Harry is.

“Er-Yeah. That’ll be perfect.”

“ _Perfect_ ,” Louis echoes once he has his fresh mug of coffee gripped in his hands. “Meet you out front in a few?” he smiles.

There’s an entire kitchen here for Louis to walk through and yet he sidles so close to Harry when he leaves that their arms brush together leaving a fiery patch of goose bumps in the wake of Louis’ damp skin on his.

Harry takes his coffee back to the pool house hoping the caffeine will saturate his brain and kick some sense back into it. He looks at the time as he sips. Fifteen minutes to get ready. He spares a longing glance at his punching bag and gloves wishing he had time enough to squeeze in a quick session. All he’s had time for the past few days are hurried showers. Thanks to Louis’ early morning schedule, it looks like today will feature more of the same.

He makes it outside with two minutes to spare after throwing on a clean outfit and chugging the rest of his coffee. He gets there just in time to catch Louis setting the security alarm and locking up the main house. Harry nearly pinches himself just to make sure he’s actually awake.

“Don’t look quite so impressed. It’s just a key. They’re relatively easy to operate,” Louis quips in greeting.

Harry has had to remind Louis to do these things every single day that he’s been here. This is cause for a fucking celebration.

“I didn’t say a word.”

“Didn’t have to. I can practically feel the pride coming off of you.”

“So what? Maybe I’m sort of proud of you. Is that so horrible?” he asks.

Louis shoves the key into the back pocket of his dark jeans that are hardly any better than the towel he was wearing earlier from how tight they are. Louis meets his gaze and rather than the fiery blue he was expecting for making a big deal about this, there’s something else behind it that’s soft and fond and makes Harry’s stomach feel strangely warm. It’s probably all of that coffee he downed just before running out here.

“You’re precious, Harry, you know that?”

And _no_ , Harry didn’t know that. He’s a police officer. He generally aims to exude qualities like resilience and strength. Trust Louis to look at him and see the exact opposite.

They climb in the back seat of the car when it arrives right on time. Louis immediately busies himself with his phone and Harry takes advantage of the rare golden silence by letting his eyelids slide shut for just a few blissful moments.

“So,” Louis’ chipper voice begins, shattering any hope Harry had taking a cat nap. “How’ve you been sleeping? I know that I always find it hard falling asleep in a new place,” he comments.

Harry forces his eyes back open finding Louis’ blue ones trained right on him.

“Well, when ever I’m fortunate enough to lie down for longer than two minutes, I actually sleep pretty well.” Harry sighs because rarely does Louis allow that to happen these days. Harry’s been so exhausted these past few days that he’s usually out as soon as his head hits his pillow. By that point, the pillow’s location is irrelevant.

“Good. That’s great to hear. I’m glad you’re comfortable.”

Louis offers him a kind smile in exchange for his answer, but his more than interested expression makes Harry wary. He wants something. Harry can feel it in his bones.

“And you’re _sure_ you’re okay staying here?” he asks like Harry had much of a choice in the matter. It was either stay in Louis’ mansion or start looking for a new career. Obviously he chose the easier option. Or at least he thought he did.

“I’m pretty sure,” Harry answers slowly.

Louis nods along, but still isn’t letting it go. “So, everything’s fine and you don’t mind having to stay here,” he concludes. “I’m not keeping you from your life at home or some _one_ at home? Some equally handsome police officer boyfriend more specifically?” he pries not looking the least bit apologetic for doing so. At first, Harry questions whether or not to even answer a question like that, but he’s finding it nearly impossible to do so with the way Louis’ innocently blinking up at him like he’s not being a nosy little shit.

He answers Louis’ question with a question of his own. “What makes you think I’m gay? I could have a girlfriend.”

His client laughs to himself like Harry must be joking, which he is. The way Harry’s mouth fell open this morning in Louis’ half-naked presence was probably enough to tip him off, but still, Harry doesn’t think he should just _assume_.

“Let’s just call it a _very_ strong hunch,” Louis tells him. “And, the doting boyfriend you’ve left behind?” he pushes. “You’ve yet to mention him.”

That’s because he doesn’t exist. Harry doesn’t have the time to dedicate to being serious with someone. He’s spent the last week of his life shadowing a grown man who just learned to lock a door for the first time. Where’s a boyfriend supposed to fit in amongst all of _that_?

Louis is still staring at him in wait, his smirk only growing wider the longer Harry takes to construct an answer. Harry lets out a tired sigh. He doesn’t have the energy for a battle of the wits with him today.

“If I say I’m in a relationship will you stop bugging me?”

“Probably not because then I’ll just want to know why you’re making shit up,” he laughs. Figures.

“And if I say I’m _not_ in a relationship?”

“Mmmm, still no because then I’ll probably need a thorough explanation as to how that’s even possible.”

“I could just say nothing and let you wonder for the rest of your life. That sounds fun.”

A flat face is all he gets in response. “You and I both know that’s not going to work.” That’s because Louis would pester him to death until he caved.

There’s no way he can possibly win here, so he just goes with the truth. It’s not like it’s some big secret.

“Fine. Since you must know, you’re right. I’m gay.” Harry ignores the mumbled ‘ _Obviously_ ’ that quickly follows. “And no, nobody cares that I’m having an indefinite stay in your pool house because I’m not seeing anyone. It’s just me at home.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, ready for whatever Louis’ about dish out next.

“Oh, so, no one special. Cool. I was just curious,” he says, sounding completely disinterested now that he’s gotten what he wanted.  Harry ‘s brow furrows, feeling like he’s missing something when there’s no argument or squabble that follows and Louis doesn’t sprout horns.

“Is that it?”

“Hmm? Yeah, that’s it,” Louis shrugs, now back to scrolling through his phone. “Now, was that so awful?” he grins. Harry cuts his eyes over at him, still suspicious that he’s being let off so easily.

“Yes,” he answers. “Excruciating.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Be more dramatic,” he mutters like he’s one to talk.

Their arrival at Ace Records is postponed due to a quick pit stop at a doughnut shop a few blocks down per Louis’ request of course. Harry accompanies him inside to order three large boxes worth that Louis could never eat in a million years. There are a couple of paparazzi waiting outside by the time they leave, but Harry’s seen them all before in other locations so he isn’t concerned about them trying to cause him harm. These men are also real photographers. Not like the person who was taking pictures of Louis on his own property.

The driver lets them out in front of his father’s label a minute later. Louis hurries up the stone steps and pushes through the glass doors with Harry struggling to keep up behind him from the crowd. The paparazzi followed them from the doughnut shop and must’ve called some friends too because now there are a lot more of them swarming around. Harry scans the lobby for a petite man in a light blue shirt when he steps inside and Louis is nowhere to be found. He sighs in relief when he spots his client across the room at reception with his giant boxes of doughnuts that now make a lot more sense as he presents them to his father’s employees. He greets everyone working there with a big familiar hug while offering them pure sugar for breakfast.

“I thought you took off,” Harry says, thankful that he hasn’t. This building is huge and he really didn’t want to spend the next hour combing through it in a one-sided game of hide-and-seek.

“Nope. I’m right here,” he grins after supplying everybody in the room with something to eat. “Ready to go?”

Harry blinks in surprise at the question. Louis has never asked him that before. Usually he just starts walking and it’s up to Harry to follow him and figure out where the hell he’s going. Today isn’t really much different. Harry assumes they’re headed straight to the meeting that Louis’ supposed to be at but he stops to say hello to everybody he passes, passing out doughnuts like the Santa Clause of sweets on every level of the building.

They finally stop at a door on the fourth floor forcing Harry to dispose of the empty boxes and take the last doughnut. It’s twelve minutes past the time that Louis was supposed to be here, but he doesn’t seem bothered by that fact.

“You’re not coming in?” he asks when Harry doesn’t move to follow him into the conference room.

Harry glances down at the chocolaty doughnut in his hand and peeks into the room at the group of people sitting around a giant table.

“Um, well, this is like a business thing right? So, I figured I’d just...”

Louis raises an eyebrow at that. “Just what? Weirdly stand there being weird for the next two hours?” He rolls his eyes, not even giving him time to answer before pulling Harry and the reject doughnut into the room with him.

He feels out of place the moment he steps inside and he’s pretty sure that’s only partly because of the food in his hand that he doesn’t know what to do with.

Everyone in the room stares until he takes the seat that Louis kindly pulls out right next to his own, dropping his doughnut into the bin beside them. Louis’ father watches him for much longer than everyone else with questioning eyes much like his son’s, though it’s obvious that they’re a few decades older and wiser. The permanent lines etched into his face give him a hard appearance, but Harry can tell that it’s just age making him look that way. He was probably just as charmingly handsome as Louis when he was his age. Louis’ mother probably didn’t stand a chance.

“Hello, sir. I’m officer Harry Styles. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Recognition dawns on the man’s face and suddenly Harry feels less like an intruder.

“It’s nice to finally meet you too. Thank you so much for looking after my son and his safety.”

Harry smiles, though it falters when Louis quietly scoffs next to him. Louis’ father must not hear it because he doesn’t address it. Or maybe he does and he just ignores it. Either way he drops Harry’s gaze and turns it on his son instead.

“You’re late again. There’s a lot we wanted to discuss with you today.”

“Sorry. I know. I got held up saying hello to some people. It wasn’t intentional.”

“I wasn’t implying that it was, Louis. It was just an observation.”

Their interactions are cold even for a professional setting such as this, but for a father and son? Harry feels like he’s more welcome in this room than Louis seems to. The atmosphere changes once the meeting officially starts and the two aren’t speaking only to each other. They use the other people in the room like soundboards, keeping their interactions as few as possible as they discuss the production of Louis’ first LP. Whatever the hell that is.

Apparently, last year he released a small EP (again, Harry’s lost on the acronyms). He had only just been signed, but it was received so well that Ace Records thinks he can pull off a successful album. Louis’ father asks how his writing is going and Louis tells the room that he’s been working hard at it nonstop. Harry finds that to be a strange answer considering he’s been with Louis every second of every day and he hasn’t even seen him look at a pen.

His team must feel just as skeptical about all of the progress Louis has made so far because they ask him to bring some samples to their meeting scheduled for next week.

Louis rests his head against the door of the car as soon as he slides into the back seat. He closes his eyes with a long sigh, gently massaging his forehead the way he has been ever since he walked out of the conference room.

“Sorry you had to sit through all that. I’m kind of sorry I had to sit through it too,” he mumbles.

“I didn’t mind. The meetings I’m used to attending always feature some deviant or psychopath or something, so thanks for letting me sit in.” Harry didn’t know what half the things were that Louis and his team were discussing of course, but he liked hearing about them anyway. Being a music star sounds like a pretty cool career to him. “So, are you excited about your new music?”

“Yeah, I’ll be thrilled as soon as I get some written,” he mutters. He moves to rest his head against the back of his seat next, sighing out of frustration. “It’s just- Things were so much easier last time with the EP because it was just some dumb EP that nobody gave a shit about. It was just to get my name out there as an artist and a songwriter, but this album is like, the _real deal_. These aren’t just a few trial and error songs I’m throwing together to see how it goes. I have to make music that people are going to want to buy, the bar is being set really high right now, and my dad is probably just waiting for the day this all blows up in my fucking face.”

He says it all in what seems like one giant anxious breath, squeezing his eyes shut again like his rant didn’t help calm even half of his worries. It’s a lot of pressure. Harry sure wouldn’t handle it well if someone sat him down and told him to write a hit album, so he can see why Louis’ stressed.

“Sorry I just unloaded all of that on you,” he says after a long silence. “You’re already my full time babysitter and now here I am trying to make you my full-time therapist as well.”

“It’s okay, Louis. I don’t mind listening.” He’d much rather do that than answer questions about himself. “You can talk to me if you want, but um, I just have one question... what the hell is an EP?”

Louis frowns before quickly cutting his eyes over at him. “Wait. Are you being serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. I don’t know what that means.” Harry expects the worst since he just asked what was obviously a stupid question in Louis’ opinion. His client’s lips turn up into an amused grin that grows into the first genuine laugh that Louis’ produced in hours.

“What?” Harry frowns. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“You mean to tell me that you just sat in a label meeting for a full hour with that word being thrown around and then you listened to me complain about it without any idea as to what it actually is?” Louis barks out a laugh unlike any other Harry’s ever heard from him. His eyes crinkle up and water each time he opens them to look at Harry who can’t stop laughing now either.

“I didn’t want to sound like an idiot in the meeting,” Harry whines.

“Why didn’t you just text me or Google it like a _normal_ person would’ve?”

Harry pauses as he considers this very smart, simple solution to him just sitting there like a knot on a log, but then he remembers why whipping out his phone in the middle of Mr. Tomlinson’s meeting seemed like a very poor choice.

“Your dad seems lovely, but he’s also kind of scary as hell,” he jokes. Louis smiles too but his laughter is gone.

“So, I guess you noticed how cuddly he is.”

Harry did notice, but he also noticed how much the man seems to really care about his son and his career. Yes, he grilled Louis today and asked him a lot of tough questions about his plans and his future. It was obvious that Louis didn’t have answers for all of them, but Harry doesn’t think his father put him on the spot to be malicious. It sounded more like he wanted to help make sure he’s on the right track. That he’s making smart decisions about his life.

“I don’t think he’s waiting for all of this to blow up in your face, Louis. I think he just worries about you sometimes. Like all parents do.”

“Yeah. Right,” Louis glances out the window, not at all convinced of these alleged good intentions.

The rest of Louis’ day is completely open after they leave the label. Louis tries to get up with his mates from last night for lunch, but no one is free to hang out besides him. He decides to go shopping instead to pass the afternoon and then tries ringing his friends again for dinner, but they already have plans for tonight too. Harry ends up being a stand-in date for all three occasions, listening to Louis talk about his album, about how terrified he is of fucking everything up, and how his friends all have their own busy lives now that everyone is getting older including himself. Somewhere between the cheesecake that Louis orders them for dessert and their third glass of wine Harry starts to realize that Louis may not be as evil and provoking as he once thought. He’s just lonely.

Louis heads up to bed when they get home which is pretty strange behavior since it’s barely even ten o’clock.

Exhaustion from their late night started catching up with Harry the moment his alarm rang this morning. Harry’s been fantasizing about getting back into his bed ever since he was forced to get out of it before he was ready. He sighs as he settles down into his sheets after a hot shower that lasts longer than two minutes. He expects the sleep gods to grant him a much needed night of rest, but surprisingly when he shuts his eyes, he can’t drift off.

He accepts defeat after twenty minutes of having no success and contemplates what to do until his insomnia wears off. He brought a couple of good books with him, but he’s too restless to sit still and read. He could work out for a while since he hasn’t done so in a few days, but he doesn’t really have the energy for more than a couple of rounds with his punching bag and plus he just finished showering.

In the end, he chooses work and decides to take an extra security walk around the property just for the hell of it. Before he leaves he grabs his laptop and pulls up the security feed of the house. Nothing seems out of the ordinary in any of the places that there are cameras set up except for one room; the studio on the second floor. His client is there now instead of in his bedroom like he said he would be. Maybe he couldn’t fall asleep either.

He’s sitting at his large desk leaned over a notebook, but he isn’t doing anything with it. Harry watches him for a long time just waiting for him to flip a page or write something down, but eventually he closes the notebook altogether. He rests his head on top of it like it weighs a ton, his shoulders rising and falling with the deep breath he takes.

Harry already knows he shouldn’t go bothering Louis. He should just go on his walk like he had planned, but he enters the main house and climbs the stairs anyway.

He knocks on the door of the studio before stepping inside. Louis’ in the same spot that he was in on camera a little while ago, but his notebook is lying open again. Maybe now he’s having better luck with whatever he’s working on.

“Hey. Busy?”

“I wish. Because that would mean I’ve actually written something worth keeping.” He meets Harry’s gaze with eyes weighed down with exhaustion. “What are you doing still up? Writer’s block kicking your arse as well?” he smirks.

“Not quite. I couldn’t sleep,” Harry shrugs. From the looks of it, Louis couldn’t either. “Mind if I come in for a bit?”

“Not at all,” Louis gestures to the little sofa pushed against the opposite wall, wordlessly inviting Harry to have a seat.

He turns his swivel chair to face Harry once he sits down on its soft cushions. The last time they were in this room together, Louis could hardly even look at him. Now they’re just staring at one another, both of them unsure of what exactly to say and who should say it first.

“So,” Harry begins, choosing to dive right in. “What are you writing about?”

“A bunch of nothing,” he quips. He changes his answer after glancing back at the notebook that has lots of words written in it though most of them have been scratched through. “I don’t know. I can’t decide,” he says instead. “I mean, I’m writing. I’ve _been_ writing, but every time I think about all these wonderful hit songs I’m supposed to be creating I kind of want to puke.”

“Well, people always say you should write what you know. Maybe you should write about that,” Harry suggests.

Louis cracks a grin at that. “About me puking my guts out? Nice try, but I don’t think regurgitation would actually sell very well. My fans have _some_ standards.”

Harry rolls his eyes, grinning against his will. “I meant you could write about the _way_ you’re feeling, not actual vomit. I think everybody can relate to that. To being afraid of failing or just being scared in general.” Harry sure can. He was assigned this job as a chance to get himself back in the game. He’s terrified of fucking it up somehow just like he did before.

Louis considers his idea for a moment, a pensive eyebrow arched high as he thinks. “It could work, but I’m looking for more of a happier kind of vibe. I don’t think dancing is the general reaction people have to being scared shitless,” he teases.

Louis swivels his chair to the left to stare at his desk covered with other notebooks and pictures of his mother. He picks up his pen, twirling it between his fingers while he thinks.

“You could write about her,” Harry suggests, watching a fond grin tug at the corner of Louis’ lips.

“I could. I _would_ , but I’m supposed to be trying new things. I write about her all the time,” he says proudly.

Harry can see why. She’s everywhere. It must be pretty easy for Louis to be inspired by his mother when all the love and admiration he still has for her is surrounding him. “I’m sure you could write a million songs about her and no one would mind. Especially not your father. I bet he loves remembering her through your music. Just like you.”

Those words sounded pretty harmless to Harry, but the retreating grin on Louis’ face says otherwise. “Yeah. You’d think so, but, no. That’s why all of her pictures are in here to begin with.”

Harry had wondered, but he didn’t think it was his place to ask. It still isn’t any of his business, but Louis starts talking and telling him about it anyway.

“I came home one day and caught him in the middle of boxing up all of her stuff so I took what I could salvage and locked it away. She had only been gone a month and he was already trying to erase her from our lives. He kept saying he was going to sell the house and I told him there was no way in hell I’d let that happen. She loved it here and besides that, I love this house too.”

“Is that why you two don’t get along? Because of your mum?”

“Kind of, though we’ve never really been close. I thought that might change after she was gone, but all it did was push us further apart. We don’t speak unless it’s about work, and even then it’s mostly just him giving his unsolicited advice and opinions about what I should and shouldn’t do; how every choice I make is the wrong one.”

Harry can see how some of the comments that Louis’ father made today might sound critical to him, but Harry also got the feeling they were merely suggestions rather than orders. Louis’ safety and wellbeing are the only things that Harry is responsible for, but for some reason, knowing how much his relationship with his father bothers him bothers Harry too. No one should feel like they’re alone. Especially not him.

“I think he may have more faith in you than you think, Louis. He wouldn’t give you an opportunity like this with your music if he didn’t believe in you. It may not feel like he cares sometimes, but I know that he does. He’s your dad. Loving you is something he has no choice in.”

Louis’ jaw is set in a hard line like he wants to disagree, but he doesn’t do it. Maybe it’s because he’s too tired to argue since he’s running off of close to no sleep as well, but it’s probably because he knows Harry is right. He gets a paper ball to the side of his head as a result of course, but it’s playful rather than hostile and it feels a lot like a thank you when Louis grins at him.

“You know, you’re not so bad once you stop trying to boss me around all the time,” he says.

 “Yeah right. _Me_ bossing _you_? I’m pretty sure you never listen to a single word I say.” He's one-hundred percent sure actually.

Louis smirks because they both know Harry’s at least right about that. “Yeah, I know I don’t,” he admits, “But I think maybe I should. I should start.”

Hell would freeze over.


	3. Chapter 3

A new update email from Liam graces Harry’s inbox every day to keep him in the loop about what’s going on, even though he’s so far removed from the loop that he hasn’t been to the station in weeks. The emails are nice, but they don’t really do much because in terms of this case, not much has changed.

The number of open threats from the person they’re after have decreased in the last few weeks though everybody assumes Harry’s close proximity to his main target is why. His presence in Louis’ home has made him a lot harder to get to, but unfortunately Harry’s presence doesn’t eliminate the threat completely since this man is still out there somewhere.

Harry keeps expecting for one of Liam’s emails to announce the long awaited capture of this man, therefore ending his mandatory stay in the pool house and yet it never comes. Almost an entire month has passed with Harry living there. That is a lot longer than he anticipated this arrangement lasting, but then again, living with Louis hasn’t been all bad.

Yes, he can be quite the handful. Harry’s not debating that. He’s a nuisance more days than not, but Louis’ actually a pretty good host when he’s not trying to drive Harry mad.

To Harry’s complete surprise, he actually tries to make good on that promise to start listening more. Louis still dominates three-fourths of their conversations of course, but he now gives Harry the opportunity to offer his opinion. Sometimes Louis even heeds the subtle pieces of advice that he gives like calling to wish his father a happy birthday for the first time in years.

Louis’ friends live pretty busy lives just like him, but they come to visit whenever they can. Louis makes an effort to go see them as well for a quick bite to eat or for a few drinks, but he spends the majority of his evenings at home by himself. It’s not really the glorious life of a famous young man that Harry would’ve guessed.

Harry’s only job is to go wherever Louis goes, so just like his client on the days that his friends are busy and his schedule is clear, Harry has nothing to do. Louis must notice how bored he gets in the pool house because he extends multiple invitations for Harry to come waste the day with him. Usually it’s just hanging out and watching tv in his entertainment room, but sitting still for long periods of time isn’t exactly one of Louis’ strengths. That’s why Harry is completely unsurprised one day when Louis suddenly turns to him with bright eyes.

“I have such a good idea,” he smiles. “Let’s kick the football around a bit.”

“Er-” Harry was definitely expecting him to suggest another shopping trip. “Um, okay. Sure,” Harry answers after a moment of thinking over how many times he’s likely to fall flat on his face trying keep up.

“Thank God! We’ve been lying around in here all day. I miss the sun.”

“Yeah, getting some fresh air will be nice. Though, I should probably warn you that I’m not very good, so.”

“Nonsense,” Louis says, giving Harry’s big feet and long limbs a quick glance over. “You’re practically built for football domination. You’re probably a fucking pro.”

He’s really, really not, and Louis sees that for himself after about twenty minutes of Harry eating grass each time he tries to steal the ball or like, _move_. He tried for the goal the couple of times when he was fortunate enough to have the ball in his possession, but his aim is so bad that the ball always ended up somewhere in the woods rather than in the goal.

Louis doesn’t complain that he’s doing all the work and basically playing football by himself. He attempts to help Harry with his skills, and when that doesn’t work he poses a new plan altogether.

“Alright, so basic coordination isn’t your thing. At least now we know that,” Louis says where he’s standing over Harry folded over on the ground once again. The ball isn’t even to blame this time. He tripped over his own fucking feet.

“I already told you I suck.”

Harry sits up taking the hand that Louis offers to pull himself onto his feet.

“Mate, you suck worse than anybody I’ve ever seen including children and old people. Actually, I’m a little concerned that my life has been in your uncoordinated hands all this time. But, that’s okay,” Louis hurries to say when Harry snatches out of his grip. “You’re terrible, but your knowledge of the game is _impeccable_. You’re a thinker. You’re an intellectual type, and that’s why Fifa is the game for you.”

A Fifa tournament with King Louis. A high honor indeed considering he once turned his nose up at the idea when Liam first suggested that he give Harry a chance.

Harry isn’t sure he’s any better at virtual football than he is at the real kind. He never sat around playing video games as a kid so he never had much interest in it as an adult either. Louis soon realizes he sucks at this too when he outplays Harry in under fifteen minutes, 7-0.

Louis places his controller down, his lips trembling from the snuffling little laugh trying to escape.

“What?” Harry demands as he tosses his controller to the side too. Why he even agreed to play this game is beyond him.

“N-Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” He watches the speed with which Louis shakes his head like Harry can’t see the amusement on his face. “Words aren’t needed to describe what just happened on that screen,” he snorts. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Haz. I’m not laughing _at_ you, I’m- well no. I lied. I am.”

He loses it after that; gasping and red-faced until he’s laughing so hard that his eyes start to water again. He can’t even sit up straight after a while, going as far as to lean over and laugh _on_ Harry next.

“Quit it.” Harry immediately pushes him onto the floor which only makes the idiot laugh harder.

Harry does _not_ want to find him cute, funny, or endearing. He wills himself to find his crinkled eyes and the way he covers his smile with the back of his hand annoying, but he can’t do it. Harry starts laughing too despite the stoic facade he was trying to maintain. It’s like Louis has some sort of mystical power over him that unwinds him and makes everything seem less serious. Louis often refers to it as wrenching the stick out of Harry’s arse.

“Hey there, Ronaldo. How’s your ego healing up?” Louis asks later that night when he stops by the pool house for a visit. He always drops in to say hello when they’re being lazy around the house like they have been today. Strangely enough, Harry doesn’t mind. He welcomes it actually.

“If you’re going to be a dick I’ll have no choice but to kick you out.”

“We just learned today that you can’t kick anything and also it’s my pool house, but good luck with that,” he laughs, letting himself inside to come sit at the foot of Harry’s bed.

The residual grin left on his face is easy rather than smug like Harry would’ve expected. He’s dressed like he’s going to bed, but the energy rolling off him suggests he’s nowhere near ready to lie down.

“What brings you down here to the dungeon anyway?” Harry asks after a long silence. Louis shrugs, grinning when Harry stretches his legs out from beneath him and his toes brush against Louis’ thigh.

“I don’t know. I was writing earlier.”

“Really? Did you write anything good?”

“Yeah. I was on a roll for a while there, but then I got stuck on a few lines so I decided to come see you in the dreary dungeon with the attached pool- moat,” he corrects himself, laughing at his own joke.

Harry looks around the room wondering what would’ve brought Louis here of all places. “Well this is a lovely dungeon, but I think you’ve come to the wrong place. I’m afraid nothing in here is going to be very inspiring.”

“I disagree,” Louis says simply.

“I’m not surprised,” Harry chuckles.

Louis drums his fingers on top of his thighs, his eyes fliting from Harry’s face to the open book lying in his lap.

“What are you reading? Anything good?”

“Aren’t you sick of laughing at me for one day?”

“Never. And now you _have_ to tell me. I won’t laugh. I give you my word.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Harry knows that’s a lie as soon as he says it, but he cooperates anyway. “It’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Roald Dahl.”

Harry flips the book over so Louis can see the worn cover and Louis’ grin is instantaneous. He covers his mouth to hide it and Harry waits for the laugh that’s sure to come but true to his word, it never does. He receives a fond shake of the head instead.

“First football and now this. What on earth am I going to do with you?”

“Not judge me for reading a book meant for twelve year olds?”

“Twelve’s pretty fucking generous. I definitely read that when I was nine.” Now the laughs come, but Harry doesn’t mind them since he’s laughing too.

“In my defense, it’s a classic and it’s always been one of my favorites, and I do own books meant for grown people too.”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it. I can’t judge either because I still have that same book somewhere in the house. My mum kept all of them for me. I told her to get rid of them once I outgrew them but she always said someone else would want to read them later. Turns out she was right.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Are you quite finished?”

“Of course not. I’m just getting started,” Louis smiles.

He gets up to sit up at the head of the bed, grabbing the rest of the books sitting on his bedside table. “Let’s see what else you brought. And just know that if there isn’t at least one Harry Potter in here, I’m disowning you.”

Harry doesn’t even bother protesting. In the end he just scoots over to make room for him. Who needs things like boundaries and personal space when Louis Tomlinson will practically sit on top of you in order to properly critique your taste in books and children’s literature. 

It’s moments like those that make this assignment feel less like a new job and more like he’s gaining a new friend. Unfortunately, Louis’ job doesn’t allow every day to be quite as laid back as the ones where they don’t even bother to shower.

Now that his album production is picking up speed, sometimes he has a whole itinerary full of things he has to do each week, leaving very little time for Fifa and Roald Dahl. He’s still mostly in the writing stage, but he’s got enough material now that recording has started. He also gets to collaborate with other songwriters and artists to help make his brilliant music even better. There are days that Louis never leaves Ace Records, moving from production meeting to writing session to recording, but Harry enjoys getting to see him in his element.

There are also days like today when Harry gets to marvel at his client and how effortlessly he fits into this crazy world of fame. He’s been in interviews all afternoon from various outlets. Everyone wants to know the direction that his first full-length album is going in and what his fans can expect. He shines brighter than anyone that Harry’s ever seen as he answers their questions with his charming smile and spirit that captivates everybody he speaks to. It’s no wonder people love him as much as they do.

The album is going to be released sometime in the spring. The end of the year is near with December being just two weeks away so people are more than curious about what’s to come. He gets asked about his musical tastes and influences and sets off on a list of all the artists and musicians he looks up to. The interviewers want to know about his lyrics, his inspiration, and what makes this album different from the EP he released just last year. Louis explains how he wants to make music that he’d want to listen to as well as his fans. He says music is very much a product of the things going on in his life at the time of production. Last year he’d just lost his mother so he wrote a lot about her. This year he’s inspired by this huge opportunity he’s been given to do what he loves and by the amazing people in his life who love him and care about him. He mostly names close friends and family members. Harry hopes he included his father on that list even if he didn’t say it out loud.

He finds Louis upstairs in his studio later that night sitting behind his keyboard with one of the songs he’s been putting finishing touches on at the label all week. He smiles when Harry knocks before coming in, ordering him to sit down and have a listen to the tricky part of one of the songs he couldn’t quite iron out before.

Louis’ soft, raspy voice fills the room and Harry watches him with fascination just like every other time Louis has put on a mini concert for him. There’s a quick paced verse about uncertainty and fear, kind of like what Harry suggested he should write all those weeks ago but it quickly changes into a chorus full of anticipation and hope. The first part is all Harry has heard of the song because Louis got stuck trying to write the rest of it, but tonight he sings through the melody like the words have been there all along.

“So?” Louis asks when he’s all finished and the room is silent again. “Be brutal. What do you think?”

That he’s incredible.

There was once a time when Harry would look at him and see nothing but a stubborn brat. He wonders what changed and when.

“I think you should be very proud of yourself, Louis, because the song is amazing.”

“Yeah? Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Harry laughs. It’s like Louis didn’t hear the same great song that Harry just did. “I loved it. Honestly. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

Harry appreciates all kinds of music. Louis’ feel-good vibe is definitely different from what Harry usually listens to, but he likes it anyway. He’d buy his album right now if he could.

“I like it too. A lot. I’m glad it’s not just me,” Louis admits, his smile practically splitting his face when he ducks his head.

“No, Lou. It’s so good. And, I thought I knew where you were going to go with it after the first part, but you turned it into a love song instead?”

“Well, I think it’s more of a falling _in_ love kind of song, but, yeah. I guess I did. It kind of surprised me too.”

Harry smirks, feeling like one of the interviewers from today as he wonders who exactly inspired such mushy lyrics from Louis Tomlinson; which extraordinary soul on this earth was able to tame the shrew. Eventually, Harry plucks up the courage to ask. He has to duck to avoid all of the paper ball rejects that get aimed his way when Louis blushes and tells him to fuck off. 

Louis declares himself done for the night after that. Harry assumes that means he’s going to bed since it’s already past midnight, but Louis says he’s way too excited to sleep yet. Naturally, he decides to celebrate his night of productivity by eating junk food and watching shitty movies. Harry didn’t realize it was an open invitation for him to join as well and yet here he is, slumped back into Louis’ giant sofa with him in his entertainment room with two giant bowls of caramel popcorn and ice-cream that Louis made him carry from the kitchen.

Healthy living is something that Harry has always strived for. So is having enough room to breathe when sitting next to someone, but Louis has shit all over those standards with all of the sugar he’s plying them with and his legs draped over Harry’s half of the sofa and Harry himself.

He slaps at Louis’ socked foot each time he laughs at the movie playing overhead and his heel digs further into Harry’s thigh. Louis responds in the only way that Harry would expect which is by throwing popcorn and making a complete mess. The floor looks like it did the day that Harry got here and Louis had tackled his best friend to the ground because he’s a sore Fifa loser.

“If you’re going to lay like that, you’re going to have to stay still. You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, please.” Louis rolls his eyes, chucking another piece of popcorn at his head. “You’re trained to beat people up and take bullets for a living and you’re whining about my foot that’s barely even touching you?”

“Your feet are literally _in my lap_.”

They’re dangerously close to his dick too, but he thinks the note of panic and concern in his voice is enough to tell Louis that without actually saying it.

“God, you’re such a baby, You’re worse than Niall,” Louis groans. To Harry’s surprise, he sits up, now beside Harry rather than on him. “There. Happy?” He raises an eyebrow at Harry like he’s bothered at having to move for him, but that little smirk is back and pulling at his lips telling Harry that he’s anything but.

Harry nods, much happier now that Louis’ foot isn’t mere centimeters away from digging into his penis. The feeling only lasts a minute before Louis reverses his position and flops down to use Harry’s thigh as a pillow for his head instead.

“Oh, sorry. Am I ‘ _hurting you’_?” Louis mocks in a deep voice that sounds nothing like Harry’s.

“No, but you are annoying the hell out of me,” he deadpans.

“We’ve got to keep tradition alive.”

Harry resists the urge to push him off of his lap and onto the floor, but he’s quiet once he settles down to finish watching the movie so Harry leaves him that way. It’s what’s best for everybody involved.

It’s past three when a loud sound from the tv forces Harry awake. He frowns, feeling the back of his body pressed against the sofa and along his front is Louis peacefully curled into his chest fast asleep.

When he agreed to hang out for a while he thought it’d be for an hour or two tops. He didn’t intend on crashing up here for the night. He vaguely remembers thinking that he should walk down to the pool house soon, but that was hours ago. Sleep must’ve gotten to him long before he could leave and so he ended up passed out right on this sofa. Louis was probably still awake though. The thick blanket covering both of them right now is evidence enough of that. If Louis was awake he should’ve woken Harry up when he started drifting off. However, it was so late that Louis probably didn’t last much longer and fell asleep too.

Harry carefully lifts the arm that was possessively draped over Louis’ body, finding it stiff and asleep from holding his client for so long in that position. Louis’ head is resting just below Harry’s chin, each of his slow breaths seeping right past the fabric of Harry’s t-shirt. His breathing stutters when Harry gently pulls his shirt from the firm grip that Louis had on it and rubs his arm to wake him.

“Lou. Louis,” Harry whispers, watching him frown before slowly opening his eyes to reveal a light crystal blue. He has always found Louis’ eyes to be beautiful, but he’s never seen them quite like this. It’s like looking into the sun. He knows he shouldn’t and yet he can’t help it.

He expects Louis to have a similar reaction of surprise at how close they’re lying together, but he seems completely unbothered when greets Harry with a sleepy grin and then lets his eyelids slide closed again.

“Louis. Wake up. We fell asleep. We should go to bed.”

“Okay,” he says through a big yawn. He shifts into a more comfortable position with his arm thrown tighter over Harry’s waist. “Go back to bed then.” He sighs contentedly as he nuzzles back into Harry’s shirt, breathing him in as he drifts back off.

Harry nearly falls for it. He almost allows himself to shrug it all off and lie this way with his client, but the alarm bells going off in his head point out about the million different reasons why that can’t happen.

“Goodnight. I’m going downstairs,” Harry says mostly to himself since Louis has already dropped off again. He pulls the blanket back and a weary sigh gets blown across Harry’s skin, warming it in a way that makes their proximity even harder for Harry to ignore.

“Now what are you doing?” He fixes Harry with an exasperated look that loses any bite that it could’ve held from the fond grin he’s also wearing as he watches him. “No offense, but you’re kind of fucking up my beauty sleep," he jokes. "Just relax, yeah?”

He drops an unexpected kiss to Harry’s collar bone and then another to his neck. He shifts in order to reach his mouth, his lips just as soft as they’ve always looked.

The fact that Louis is kissing him doesn’t really register in Harry’s sleepy brain until he feels Louis’ tongue brush against the seam of his lips sending sparks shooting through his entire body from the shock of it.

“Jesus, what now?” Louis sighs when Harry jerks away from him, rolling his eyes at Harry like the way they’re currently wrapped around each other is normal. It’s not fucking normal. Not even close.

“Louis, you can’t just- _do_ things like that. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Louis blinks at him, obviously taken aback by his accusatory tone. It’s the first time Louis has looked fully awake since Harry woke him up.

“Um, there’s nothing wrong with me?" he says, clearly on the defensive when he sits up. "I’m feeling just fine. What’s wrong with _you_? You’re the one having a fucking meltdown right now.” His brow furrows when Harry pulls away from him completely, needing the space just to think.

“Yeah, it’s because you just kissed me out of nowhere. That’s not okay. Of course I’m going to be a little upset about that.” Not only is it crossing a billion different lines, but he also liked it way more than he was expecting so he’s kind of upset about that too.

Louis looks completely lost, staring at Harry like he’s out of his mind. At first Harry doesn’t understand how Louis doesn’t understand the major fucking issue here, but then Harry realizes that he is totally to blame. He let them get too close. The lines of their friendship and their professional relationship have become so blurred that Louis obviously thought doing something like kissing him just for the hell of it would be acceptable.  

Harry deflates once he realizes how they got here. He’s not upset with Louis. He can’t be, because he let this happen. But, he’s going to make up for it now. He’s going to fix this so they can go back to the way things were and just forget about it.

“Louis, I’m sorry. It’s late and I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” he begins first thing.

“You’re right. You’re being a prick,” Louis bitterly quips.

“I know and I’m sorry for that.” Louis seems to accept his apology after a few moments of contemplation, finally looking at Harry with warmth and fondness again. He tentatively leans forward like he may be trying for another kiss so Harry talks faster. “And I’m also sorry if I’ve ever said something or did something to make you think we’re more than just friends, but this is my job, Louis. It can’t be like that between us.”

Louis sits back, blinking at him like he’s not quite sure he heard Harry correctly. His expression morphs from confused to hurt to angry in a matter of seconds.

“What the hell are you even talking about, it _can’t_ be like that between us? Look around, Harry. It’s _always_ been like that.”

Harry does as Louis said and looks around the room at the mess they made for their movie night and their bodies still much closer together than Harry’s really comfortable with at the moment. He thinks about all the smiles and touches that he always regarded as friendly and familiar, but maybe there’s been something more behind them all along. It’s possible that whatever this is has been building between them since day one. Harry just didn’t realize it.

“I don’t know how we got here, but I take full responsibility. I should’ve been the bigger, responsible person and stopped it.”

Taking the blame for this shit storm doesn’t make Louis look any less angry with him. “You can’t take responsibility for two people falling for each other, Harry. I know you like to control everything, but that’s not how this works.”

Eventually, he rests his hand on top of Harry’s in the same comforting manner that he always has, but tonight it means something different; something more, so Harry gently pulls it away. 

“But that’s just it, Louis. You’re _not_ falling for me. You just think you are because I’m here with you all the time and you trust me because I’m looking after you, but it’s not the same thing.”  On some level, Louis must know all of that, but he doesn’t show it. He takes a quick breath like he’s about to say something but frustratedly releases it. He repeats the process, not able to say whatever it is he’s thinking.

He suddenly stands up when the words won’t come, his eyes fiercer and more determined than Harry’s ever seen them. He storms out of the room, his footsteps echoing throughout the empty house until he wrenches open a door somewhere on the second floor. Harry keeps waiting for the harsh slam to follow, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Louis’ steps pound against the hardwood again until he’s back in the entertainment room with a handful of loose papers clenched in his fists. He drops them onto the coffee table between them and Harry feels his stomach sink.

Harry doesn’t even need to pick them up. He doesn’t need to read them either, already aware of what’s written on the lines because Louis sang them to him earlier. He feels like such an idiot.

“If you don’t want to admit what’s really going on here, then fine. Don’t. But don’t sit there and try to tell me how I feel about you when I’ve got the proof of it in my own fucking handwriting,” he spits.

Harry flounders for what to say; for an apology that’ll erase the sting he feels when Louis turns his back on him and walks away. The loud door slam he was expecting from earlier reverberates through the house when Louis reaches his bedroom a few seconds later.

Going after him to apologize again will probably only make things worse, so Harry stays where he is. He doesn’t know what to do with himself so he starts folding up the blanket that Louis covered them with and scooping up all the spilled popcorn. He gets to the papers that Louis abandoned on the coffee table last. He flattens them out to remove the crinkles that Louis’ fists made, his eyes catching pieces of the hopeful lines that he now knows were written about him.

He feels weird about leaving them so he takes them down to the pool house. They’re still a little crinkled, so he uses his stack of books to help straighten them out. The lyrics are mostly hidden that way, but being out of sight doesn’t do anything to put them out of his mind. He doesn’t fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow as usual. This time he hardly sleeps at all.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, or _continued_ morning really since he never fully drifted off, finds Harry groggy and completely fucking miserable. He rubs at his eyes when he sits up, trying to spring some life and moisture into them, but they’re just as dry and tired as when he first cracked them open.

The reason why he feels like shit isn’t too hard for him to grasp in this hazy state. His memory is impeccable, and even if it weren’t, the pages of affection that Louis ripped from his notebook last night are still visible beneath the weight of his books making them impossible for him to forget.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do in this situation. There’s no protocol that he knows of for how to react in the event your client thinks he’s falling for you. Denying his claim obviously isn’t the way to go, but Harry thinks a civil conversation and a sincere apology for handling it wrong the first time might do the trick.

The main house seems light-years away when he finally forces himself out of the bed. He expects to find Louis pottering around in the kitchen as usual making the coffee or their breakfast when they have the time. He’s not there. The room is empty and looks like it hasn’t been touched since the night before when they spilled popcorn all over the floor and didn’t even bother to pick it up in their haste to start their movie.

Harry climbs the stairs hoping to find him sitting in front of his massive television or at least working in his studio, but his client is nowhere to be found.

Harry considers searching the house to make sure he isn’t seeking refuge in some unexpected spot that Harry wouldn’t ordinarily guess, or that the idiot hasn’t _actually_ been taken in the middle of the night, but in the end a search party isn’t necessary. Harry only has to go as far as Louis’ bedroom to find him. Well…maybe _find_ isn’t the right word since Harry hasn’t actually seen him or spoken to him, but somebody had to groan and throw something shoe-sounding at the door when Harry knocked on it. All bets are on his client.

Louis’ clearly not in the mood to talk yet so Harry busies himself cleaning up the kitchen and making coffee hoping the smell will lure Louis down the stairs. When that doesn’t work, Harry brings out the big guns and fries up a couple of omelets that don’t look anywhere near as nice as Louis’. He has to wait for the scent of bacon and sautéed onions to properly saturate the air before he hears signs of life from the floor above.

He strains his ears to track each footstep that leads out of Louis’ bedroom. They stop inside of another room – his studio – for just a moment and then they’re picking back up and taking the stairs. Harry faces the kitchen door, already planning out what he’s going to say first when he catches sight of his client fully dressed with a notebook in his hand, not even acknowledging the fact that he has a kitchen as he breezes right past it.

“I’m leaving. Driver will be here in less than five,” he says as an afterthought before opening the front door and walking out of it.  

Harry quickly glances at the clock on the wall and the breakfast he hasn’t even finished cooking yet and panics. There wasn’t anything on the schedule for this morning. He checked several times just to make sure. And, five fucking minutes? Harry’s going to need that long just to figure out how his brilliant apology breakfast idea just went up in smoke. _Literally,_ he realizes when his eggs start to sizzle and darken from lack of attention.

He turns off the stove, leaving his ugly, mostly unburnt omelets right there in the skillet before taking off towards the pool house. He passes Louis on his way out, brightly chatting away on the phone as Harry stumbles through his yard. He grabs the closest shirt he can find when he’s back in his room along with a pair of jeans that have a food stain on the thigh, but people will just have to deal with it. The sound of gravel crunching beneath a set of tires sends his heart racing even more than it already was as he grabs his wallet and keys and sprints out the door.

Louis is already getting into the car when Harry remembers to run over and check the door of the main house just to be safe. He’s mostly surprised, but also relieved to find it locked tight.

At least Louis’ only being passive aggressive about _some_ things today. Thankfully his safety isn’t one of them.

“You look like hell,” Louis comments after he hangs up with whoever he was just speaking with. Harry’s shirt is basically one giant wrinkle and his hair probably resembles a bush caught in a windstorm.

“I know. I didn’t really have a lot of time to get ready today,” he retorts.

“Hmm. What a shame.” Louis pulls his sunglasses down over his eyes before directing his attention to the window.

He can’t believe they’re back here again. Harry takes a deep, cleansing breath and releases it slowly.

“Look, Louis. I know you’re mad at me,” Harry begins, but Louis cuts in before he finishes.

“No, I’m not. Being mad at someone implies that one cares, and I for one, certainly don’t.” Every hard line of Louis’ body says otherwise. His lips are pursed just so, and his stubbly jaw is set in such a way that Harry can’t stop staring. The man is beautiful even when he’s upset, and Harry can’t figure out how that’s possible.

Harry used to complain about his constant chattering like having all of Louis’ attention was a bad thing, but the truth is that Harry quite likes being in his spotlight. It’s strange going cold-turkey from one day to the next and hearing nothing from him at all. Louis won’t even look at him.

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to upset you last night, Louis. Honestly. That wasn’t my intention.”

Louis cuts his eyes over at him behind his glasses, finally acknowledging that Harry’s there but that’s about all he gives him. He doesn’t even take off them of his face.

“Okay. You’re sorry for something that no one cares about. Glad we got that sorted.”

Louis turns back towards the window to watch the scenery fly by. The rest of the car ride is dead silent; quiet enough for Harry to take that desired cat nap he’s always dreamed of, but it’s not like he’d sleep any better than he did last night knowing for certain that he and Louis are on shaky ground.

The mystery of where the hell they’re going is finally solved when Louis asks his driver to stop at the doughnut shop a few blocks down from the label. Harry moves to follow Louis inside but his client’s dismissive voice stops him.

“You don’t have to come. I’ll make sure to scream if the cashier turns out to be a mass murderer or something.”

Harry takes another deep breath followed by several more before trailing behind Louis to the shop’s entrance with a very generous distance between them. He doesn’t go inside per Louis’ subtle request to not be followed. He waits for him just outside the glass doors instead with a clear view of him just in case the girl behind the register does turn out to be a psycho murderer who’s simply dressed as a teenage doughnut shop employee.

Harry had assumed that Louis’ bad mood would extend to include everybody in his path today, but his iciness melts away upon greeting everyone he sees at the label. He hands out doughnuts like he does any other time he drops in for a visit, smiling and catching up with the people he’s known for half of his life. There’s one doughnut left after he finishes making his rounds throughout the building. A chocolate one that calls Harry’s name since he didn’t get to eat the breakfast he made earlier. He waits for Louis to kindly offer it to him like usual. He doesn’t even glance in Harry’s direction before fitting the entire box into the garbage bin.

So much for that.

Louis heads to one of the writing studios on the third floor but at this point Harry knows better than to assume he’s invited to join.

“I’ll be right out here if you need me,” he says, getting comfortable on the sofa against the wall.

“I’ll try not to. I wouldn’t want you to mistake me needing you for me having feelings for you or something as wild and crazy-sounding as that.”

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry sighs. And that’s about as far as he gets before the door is being shut in his face.

Every day after that feels like a battle that he can never win. Everything Harry does is wrong. If he’s standing too close to Louis, he’s crowding him. If Harry attempts to give him his space, he’s being a twat for avoiding him. They don’t talk much, but Harry catches Louis watching him out of the corner of his eye like he wants to say something. Like he hates this just as much as Harry does. Harry attempts to reason with him in those brief, fragile moments; to apologize like Harry knows he should, but Louis brushes it off and claims that he a) wasn’t looking at Harry because that would imply that he cares Harry is in the room, and b) isn’t mad or upset so Harry can shove his apology up his arse.

He’s at a loss. He hurt Louis’ feelings that night when he was just trying to do the right thing. He rejected him and now Louis doesn’t want anything to do with him. He makes that abundantly clear again one evening when he announces via text message that he’s going to a party and that the car is already waiting out front for him.

Harry quickly changes back into the jeans and black t-shirt he was wearing earlier. He laid them out right beside his bed just in case Louis sprung a random outing just like this on him like he’s been doing for the past week.

He slides into the back seat with Louis, shocked when he speaks to Harry and it isn’t in a brusque tone.

“This isn’t like, an official event or anything. It’s just a party a mate of mine is throwing at some club, so security probably won’t be very tight.”

Harry nods, appreciating the fact that Louis is sharing this information with him. If there’s not going to be someone checking out all the guests like at the label party they attended earlier in the month, then Harry is going to have to step it up to make sure everyone who’s going to be around Louis tonight is okay.

“That’s really helpful, Louis. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Sure. You’re welcome,” he answers back.

It’s the first normal conversation they’ve had in ages where Louis holds his gaze for longer than just a few seconds. Even in the dark his eyes are beautiful, luminous from the passing streetlights overhead creating a softer, more forgiving shade of blue than Harry’s used to seeing these days.

Harry wants to take this rare opportunity and run with it. He wants to talk or apologize or whatever it is that Louis wants him to do but is too stubborn to ask for. Harry can feel the ever-present knot in his chest growing while he thinks of what to say, but just as quickly as the quiet moment between them materialized, it fades when Louis turns his gaze back to the window.

*

Louis wasn’t lying about security. There virtually isn’t any besides a couple of bouncers at the door checking a list for names as party guests waltz right on in. None of these people have shown ID to enter and almost all of their faces are unfamiliar to Harry. Louis sure doesn’t help him in terms of trying to distinguish between who’s a friend and who might be a crazy psychopath because he welcomes everybody to his side as usual.

Harry tries to keep his distance so that he isn’t crowding him while he’s having a good time, but he’s close enough that he could intervene if necessary. He sips on a warm glass of water as he scopes out the room and watches his client light it up with his drunken smile that’s a million times brighter than everyone else’s. He peeks over at Harry every now and then. He wanders over to Harry a couple of hours after they arrive, and again, Harry’s shocked when he’s met with kindness rather than spite.

“Whatcha drinking?” He rests an elbow against the bar as he narrows his eyes at Harry’s half-empty glass.

“Nothing as good as what you’re drinking, I’m sure. It’s just water,” he shrugs. Louis grins down at his own drink in his hand. He sets it down in front of Harry with a raised eyebrow; a little mischievous smirk playing at his lips that Harry has missed seeing.

“Well? Go on,” he urges. “I’ll just get myself a new one.”

“Er- Thanks, Louis. I wish I could, but I shouldn’t. I’m working, remember?”

“Oh, come on, Haz. No one here knows that. It’s just one teeny tiny drink.” He squeezes Harry’s forearm when he leans in close. The warm breath from his words tingle the shell of his ear as they fall against it. “Come on. I won’t tell if you won’t,” he promises.

Louis lifts the drink up to Harry’s lips like he’s going to tip the alcohol into his mouth, but Harry turns his head before he can. “Really, Louis. Thanks, but I shouldn’t. I can’t,” he explains, knowing within a millisecond that he’s said the wrong thing when Louis immediately removes himself from his side.

“That’s your favorite word isn’t it? Can’t,” he accuses. “We _can’t_ be more than friends, we _can’t_ discuss how that’s complete bullshit,” he lists off. “You _can’t_ even have a fucking sip of whiskey after me because I drank it first.”

“Louis, that’s not why I said no. I already told you I’m working. It may not look like it to you because you’re drunk and everything’s a game to you, but _I’m_ the one who has to protect you if something were to happen. _I’m_ here to watch over you to make sure you’re fucking safe since _you_ obviously don’t give a shit.”

Harry didn’t mean to snap at him, but Louis’ been antagonizing him for weeks. He uses every situation and interaction between them to needle and prod and poke, and Harry can’t take it anymore. He would say as much out loud but that’ll only further prove Louis’ point.

Louis storms away from him, but Harry doesn’t mind. He needs the space to calm down and get his emotions under control. Somehow, he has let Louis have all the power in this relationship - _situation_ \- whatever the hell this is, but Harry’s the one who should be calling the shots.

He can’t find Louis once he turns to see where he just stomped off to. Panic sets in after a few quick scans of the room produce no sign of him. Harry gets up to search the floor, wondering how he’s going to explain this to his boss when he finally spots his client in the middle of the packed dance floor. Harry rolls his eyes at him dancing alone and hidden from view just to spite him. But, then he notices the other person dancing directly behind him, holding onto Louis’ hips to whisper into his ear like the two actions have any thing to do with one another.

His client bites down on his bottom lip as some man that Harry’s about ninety-nine percent sure that he doesn’t even know continues saying God knows what as they sway to their own beat. Harry has no idea who this other man is or why he thinks it’s okay to for his hands to roam so freely over Louis’ body and he doesn’t care.

He starts breaking through the crowd to go tell him to back off when Louis flashes his eyes up to meet his gaze with a smirk. He lets the stranger turn him around and pull him close, and Harry stops dead in his tracks, watching Louis meet him halfway in a kiss that Harry swears he can hear the sounds of over the sound of the music thumping overhead.

He doesn’t know what to do in a situation where someone is clearly crossing the line, but Louis is clearly welcoming it. He likes this man towering over him. He likes the way his hands are gripped around his arse. Harry gets so stuck in his own head watching their hands – this stranger’s _fucking_ hands – that he almost lets it continue. Louis doesn’t seem like he needs any help, but Harry walks forward anyway. The scene is even worse up close where he can see their tongues slipping into each other’s mouths and the way their chests rise and fall as they work to keep up with one another.

Harry’s stomach churns a bit, watching Louis wipe his mouth after Harry taps his shoulder to get his attention. The man holding him stares with possessive eyes that make Harry want to punch him square in his perfect fucking nose.

“Can we help you?”

It takes a lot on Harry’s part, but he ignores the man’s rude question, focusing only on Louis; the only person who truly matters in this situation. To Harry’s surprise, Louis actually takes up for him. “It’s fine. He’s my bodyguard,” he explains over the music.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks. He really wants him to say no. He watches every movement and flicker of Louis’ face for any sign that he’s not okay. To his disappointment, he doesn’t find one.

“I’m fine. _Perfect_.”

“Right.” Harry ignores the way Louis grins up at him in challenge. He’s drunk and Harry really doesn’t want to play whatever game this is that he’s concocted. “And who’s this?” he spares a fleeting glance at the man still openly groping him even in Harry’s presence. He has the sudden urge to break every one of his fingers.

“He’s a new friend,” Louis chirps. “Why? Is there a problem, _officer_?”

There are several gaping problems here, none of which Harry has the time to properly analyze. He wants to pry Louis out of this man’s grip, whisk him away from this stupid party, and never look back, but he has no right. Harry wonders if those desires are written all over his face when Louis’ eyes lose their mirth. For a moment, Louis drops the act and looks at him with expectant eyes. They’re just staring at each other, both of them poised to say something but neither of them wanting to say it first. Harry does the honors.

“No, there’s no problem. As long as you’re okay,” he sighs after a silence that stretched so long that even the idiot holding Louis had started to look uncomfortable.

It was the wrong thing to say clearly. Louis’ eyes sear into him again as if Harry just told him to go jump into moving traffic. Harry thinks he hears him mutter something that sounds like the word _unbelievable_. Harry frowns wondering what the fucking problem is now.

“What?” Harry demands, sick of always feeling lost in these situations with him. “You’re pissed at me again and for what? I didn’t even _do_ anything.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s exactly the fucking point,” Louis spits, before turning back to his ‘new friend’ to finish their dance.

Harry gets his wish to whisk Louis away from the club a half hour later, but when he imagined it in his head, Louis’ idiot of a morning-after regret wasn’t there with them. He invited Louis back to his hotel, an offer that Harry was positive his client would turn down. He didn’t. He hardly even paused to think before throwing a glare over his shoulder at Harry, tossing back another shot, and escorting the man out to his car.

The two of them are in the back seat practically fucking already from the sounds of it. Harry tries to tune it out with the radio where he is in the passenger’s seat up front. When they arrive at the hotel Harry goes up to the top floor with them and checks the man’s suite for any signs that he’s going to chop Louis up in his bathtub or something else morbid like that. Harry is disappointed when all he finds is a couple of half-empty suitcases, some business suits and papers, a toothbrush whose bristles have been chewed to death, and an orderly king-size bed that was probably made by housekeeping hours ago.

He asks to see the man’s ID, mentally rolling his eyes as he reads over it. _Darren Ward, age 28, brown eyes, 6’1, lives in West Hollywood, California._

Harry fucking _knew_ his nose looked too perfect. It’s probably not even real.

“Satisfied that I’m not a killer now?” Darren asks.

The _fuck_ _no_ that Harry wants to quip back is right at the tip of his tongue, but he manages to hold onto it.

“ _Yes,_ he is,” Louis answers for him. “Everything’s good here right, Harry?” He gives Harry a significant raise of his eyebrows like it’s supposed to mean something or hurry him along.

The fact the he’s so anxious to go in this room with this man only makes Harry want to prolong it more, but he can’t really justify saying no. Darren checks out to be fine. He’s harmless and although Louis acts like a child sometimes, he’s a consenting adult. There’s really not much that Harry _can_ do. He’d say that out loud too but he doesn’t want to hear Louis gloating about the fact that he’s right. _Again._

“Sure. Everything’s fine,” he says, forcing the words out of his mouth.

He watches Darren’s face light up as he backs into his room with Louis in tow. “If you hear noises don’t panic. We’re just having a bit of fun,” he jokes, baring every one of his cosmetically whitened teeth in a smile that Harry would love to ruin with his fists.

Louis glances back at him like he’s been doing all night. It’s like he’s waiting for something to happen at any second, but Harry can’t figure out what. In the end, Louis doesn’t say anything. He hardens his expression, squares his jaw, and turns his back on Harry before shutting him out with the door.

Harry stands as far down the corridor as space will allow, waiting for Louis to reemerge. He had been standing closer to the room that he’s in, but the noises that Darren warned him about drove him away as soon as he heard his client moaning for someone named Aaron to keep going and then the offended, _my name is Darren_ he heard right after.

Harry occupies himself counting the cars that pass by beneath the streetlights below. He’s so engrossed in not thinking about how fucked up this night has been that he almost misses the sound of Darren’s door shutting when Louis walks out of it forty minutes later.

He clears his throat to get his attention, his hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt like it fits wrong even though it’s one of his favorites.

“I’m ready if you are,” he says, looking a lot more sober than he was when he went inside. He looks fine physically. Exactly the same as he did before, but something’s definitely off now about the way he’s avoiding looking at Harry head on.

“Okay,” Harry nods. “Let’s go then.”

The car ride back features one less person and yet somehow it’s twice as awkward.

There’s something caught in Harry’s throat. Some statement or question he wants to voice. He has no idea what it is. Only that it’s thick and heavy and felt like an iron weight the whole time Louis was in that hotel room.

Louis isn’t saying anything either, but he has glanced over at Harry several times like he wants to. Harry isn’t sure why. He’s already made it abundantly clear that Harry isn’t welcome anymore, not even as a friend. Harry’s not an idiot. He knows that the protective drive he feels for Louis extends way past professional. Louis’ sex life shouldn’t matter to him in the slightest and yet it’s all he can think about.

“This isn’t working out anymore,” Harry says, finally giving life to what should’ve been said a long time ago. Beside him, he hears a swift intake of breath like he expected Harry to say something like that, but didn’t think he actually would. “I’ll call Liam in the morning.”

The car is silent for so long that Harry’s chest starts to tighten from the suspense. He thought it would loosen when Louis finally put him out of his misery, but he answers him in an even, unattached voice. That hurts even worse.

“If that’s what you think is best.”

He doesn’t. Harry has no idea what’s best in this situation, but the two of them can’t keep doing this.

The thought of what this failure is going to mean for him and his career the next morning ties his stomach in knots. First, he couldn’t make it as a regular officer. He let the weight of that woman’s death bury him until all he was capable of was babysitting somebody who didn’t even want him there to begin with. Now that he’s failed at that too, he doesn’t know what his future holds. Maybe his chief will put him on a case that’s lacking manpower because everyone else is being spread too thin with him gone. Or maybe he’ll just be desked for the rest of the foreseeable future since he obviously can’t do anything right.

Liam picks up after a few rings, greeting Harry brightly despite how early it is. “Haz! We haven’t called each other in ages,” he chuckles, “What’s up?” His tone changes after a couple of beats of silence tick by. “Oh, God.”

“Nothing has happened, Li. Calm down,” Harry grins.

He hears the sigh of relief Liam releases into the receiver. “Thank God. Okay, nobody’s dead. What’s up then?”

“I need you to get me off this assignment and place somebody else here instead.”

There’s no point in beating around the bush about it. This job is fucked beyond repair and now he wants out.

“I thought you just said there was nothing wrong? Why on earth would you _quit_?”

It’s not like Harry _wants_ to quit. He liked staying here for a short while, but that window has closed. Louis hates him and there’s no use pretending otherwise.

“I just need to get out of here. It’s not working out and I’m going to lose my mind if I end up stuck here for _another_ month.”

Liam doesn’t say anything for a while. “Harry...you’ve made it this long. You can’t make it another _five_ days? You’re due for a break anyway.”

Harry glances at the big nineteen displayed on the calendar hanging on the wall in surprise. He hadn’t even realized how far they’ve gotten into December. He called his mother weeks ago to let her know when he’d be home. He’d been so distracted by Louis and their issues that he hadn’t noticed how quickly that day is approaching.

“You just have to make it a little while longer. Everything is going to be closed for the holidays so it’s not like Louis will have much going on. We’ll just send an officer over a few times a day to check on him while you’re gone.”

Christmas is close and yet it sounds like a lifetime away. But, if that’s his ticket out of here, then he’ll just have to deal.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll stay until then, but, after Christmas I don’t want to come back here. I want a new assignment.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want. But, Haz, are you _sure_ about this? I mean, what happened between you two? I thought you were getting along pretty well.”

The sad thing is that they were. Too well.

Louis seems surprised to see Harry when both of their stomachs force them to the kitchen around lunch time.

“I thought you were leaving?”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you.” Harry steps around him to grab a container of leftovers.

“Haz, that’s not what- I- I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. The softness in Louis’ voice and his eyes doesn’t make any sense. Harry could write a book detailing how completely done he is trying to figure him out.

“I’m staying until my holiday time starts. I’m going home on the twenty-fourth.” He steps around Louis again to reach the microwave. Louis moves with him, standing just behind him until Harry has no choice but to look at him.

“You mean Christmas Eve?” Louis asks, his face falling the longer they stare at each other. “And- And then what? When do you come back?”

“I don’t.” Harry thought saying that out loud would feel a lot better than it actually does. “You’ll finally get what you’ve always wanted; somebody else here instead of me.”

Considering how much Louis hates him now, Harry expected for him to jump for joy at the news. He doesn’t. He just stares at Harry with a hurt expression turning colder by the second after Harry’s eyes flash to the line of fresh love bites along his neck. Louis’ hand instinctively and pointlessly moves to cover them.

Harry’s food dings when it’s finished heating. He turns away from Louis to grab it out of the microwave, some silverware, a napkin, and a beer. He sits down at the kitchen table and Louis leaves without another word, not even taking the food he just cooked with him when he stomps up the stairs.

Harry counts his footsteps when he makes it to the second floor, mentally high-fiving himself when he’s able to guess the exact moment his bedroom door slams. 

*

They don’t see much of each other after that. Louis still has a few last-minute commitments to honor before the holidays, but he cancels them without explanation. Harry doesn’t mind. It’s less work for him to stay put in the pool house all day than to follow around a brooding pop-star anyway.

At this point, Harry is just biding his time. He occupies himself with thoughts of going home and how good it’ll be to see his family. These last few months have been rough on him. First with his failed case and now with his failed… _Louis_. He can’t seem to get it right lately, but he knows that being around his loved ones for a few days will instantly dull the pain. He just has to get there first.

Louis ventures down to the pool house the afternoon of the twenty-third, which is surprising since his random visits stopped right around the time Louis kissed him. Harry doesn’t hear him come in due to the music playing through his earbuds as he works out, but Harry sees him come in out of the corner of his eye. He can feel him there watching.

Harry lowers his fists away from his punching bag and removes one of his gloves to pause his music. Louis hasn’t spoken to him in days, so whatever Louis walked all the way here to say must be pretty urgent. “What’s up?” Harry asks to prompt him.

Louis tears his eyes away from Harry’s sweaty chest and opens his mouth like he’s going to finally say something. His eyes fall on the packed bags already sitting at the foot of the bed instead and his mouth snaps shut, holding the words back. Harry wants to ask him what’s wrong, but he leaves before Harry can even try.

There’s no denying that Louis’ being weird; well, weirder than usual, that is, but Harry refuses to let it bother him. He wakes up bright and early the morning of the twenty-fourth without a care in the world because after today, whatever happened between them in the past doesn’t matter.

He showers and gets ready in the pool house for what will presumably be the last time. All of his things are packed for his trip to Cheshire minus a few things he’ll have no choice but to come pick up after the holidays are over like his punching bag, but that won’t take long.

He picks up his phone to call the station for someone to come pick him up so he can go get his own car. He wants to get on the road as soon as possible which is why he smiles when Liam saves him the effort of dialing by calling him first.

“I was just about to call you,” Harry chuckles. “Must be leftover friend-telepathy from when we were kids.”

Liam gives him nothing but silence. Harry didn’t think his joke was hilarious or anything. They never are, but he thought Liam would at least give him a pity laugh. There isn’t a note of amusement in his friend’s voice when he finally speaks up.

“Listen, Haz…” he begins, and doesn’t that just sound cheery? “I know we thought that you’d be on your way home, but that may have to be postponed for a little bit.”

“Okay, how long’s a little bit?” Harry glances at his bags that he started packing days ago. Maybe everyone at the station is busy right now so no one can come pick him up. He could always call a cab if necessary.

“Harry, I know it’s a huge inconvenience and I’m so sorry, but it’s not going to be right now.”

Harry rolls that information around in his brain a couple of times. It makes less sense the more he thinks about it. He held up his end of the bargain. He lasted the five days and now it’s time for Liam to do what he said he would and get him the hell out of here.

“What’s going on?” he asks carefully. “Did something happen?” Something must have.

“Louis’ throwing this massive party tonight and the guest list he gave us is pretty long. We just got off the phone with him a minute ago. We thought you’d be able to go home today since everything there would be pretty quiet, but obviously there’s been a change of plans so you’ll need to be there just a little longer.”

“Stop doing that. Stop easing me into it and just say it. How long’s a little longer?” Harry demands. His mother is expecting him home in a matter of a few hours. He refuses to stay here past that.

Liam sighs into the receiver. “Depending on how long this party lasts, I’d say tomorrow morning at the earliest…” Harry can practically hear the wince in Liam’s voice as he crushes every one of his hopes.

“You want me to stay here through the _night_? Tomorrow is Christmas. I’m supposed to be home today. By the time I get there tomorrow it’ll be fucking over.” This is crazy. Harry shouldn’t have to suffer just because his client is an insensitive prick. “Get one of the other officers to come babysit him or just tell him he can’t fucking do something like this without notice. Who the hell throws a random party for Christmas Eve anyway? He’s doing it just to spite me.”

“Haz, believe me. I tried asking other people, but they only agreed to routine check-ins while you’re gone not an entire event, and most people are already gone for the holiday anyway. I’m sorry, but it’s less fuss for you to just stay an extra day,” Liam says once Harry has stopped screaming down the phone at him.

Liam isn’t even the person he’s really mad at. Harry has been doing this job for a long time. He knows everything that Liam is saying is the cold hard truth, but that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. He can’t believe this is happening.

“And it’s not just some random party, Harry,” Liam tells him after a long pause. “It’s his birthday.”

*

Harry doesn’t give a damn if today’s Louis’ birthday or not, not when he’s sabotaging the one thing that was supposed to go right for him. He’s ruining the time that Harry’s supposed to spend with his family and he’s not going to take it lying down.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Harry bursts into Louis’ studio where he’s quietly working, causing his client to jump from the sound of the door slamming against the wall. Louis has slammed more doors in Harry’s face than he can count. It’s past time he returns the favor.

“What’s wrong? What are you talking about?” he says with his eyes on the ground rather than Harry’s face. Harry is thrown off guard at his even tone, noticing that he’s the only one yelling in this situation. He doesn’t lower his voice. He can’t.

“You already know what I’m talking about. I just got off the phone with Liam?” Harry waits for him to confirm or deny, but he says nothing which only frustrates Harry more. “You’re throwing a fucking _party_ , Louis? On _Christmas Eve_ of all days?”

“Yes,” Louis sighs. “But it’s not like I can help when I was born. I’m allowed to celebrate just like everybody else. Today _is_ my birthday,” he says unapologetically. Harry scoffs, finding that pretty fucking ironic.

“Louis, you’ve never mentioned any of this to me. To _anybody_. I’m supposed to be going home right now. What, did you just lie around the last five days plotting some big scheme to make my life even more difficult? Do you really hate me so much that you’d make up some bullshit birthday party just to keep me from my family? Are you really that fucking cruel. That fucking selfish?”

“ _No_. No, I’m not,” he whispers in defense of himself. “I didn’t want to keep you from anybody, Haz. I just- You were leaving.”

“I know! That was the whole fucking point!” he booms.

The hot anger coursing through him recedes with Louis’ broken, ‘ _I didn’t want you to.’_

Harry keeps thinking this situation between them can’t get any more twisted and somehow he’s always proved wrong. Louis claims to love him. Harry knows because he can’t get that fucking song he wrote out of his head. But the way Louis shows it sometimes makes him think that Louis feels the exact opposite.

“If that’s what you wanted then you didn’t have to go behind my back to ruin everything. You could’ve just said so like a normal person.”

“And would you have listened?”

Harry goes to answer with a firm _yes_ or an _obviously_ , but he stops himself, unsure if that would really be the case. He’d like to think he would’ve listened, but either way, Harry definitely doesn’t want to hear what he has to say now.

“H-Harry, I’m sorry,” he tries, but Harry doesn’t stick around to hear his apology. He only catches the end of it as he’s retracing his steps through the door.

 

The Tomlinson house looks like a bomb hit it Harry thinks as he sidles past a group of extremely loud and extremely intoxicated people that he’s never seen in his entire life before tonight. Harry has never heard of most of these people who were listed as close personal friends of their host. Niall and Zayn are the only recognizable faces in the crowd, but Louis doesn’t seem to mind being surrounded by a houseful of near-strangers. He’s in a drunken group of his own in the living room, his bright voice carrying over all the music and the noise as he downs his fifth glass of something awful that makes him frown each time he takes a swallow.

Even just the sight of him right now is too much for Harry. Seeing him flit around the room in his tight jeans and his bright smile like he actually gave a shit about celebrating his birthday prior to today when he pulled this party out of his arse. Harry can’t believe _this_ is how he’s being forced to spend Christmas Eve night and all because Louis Tomlinson didn’t get his way so he’s throwing a tantrum fit for a two-year old.

Harry keeps as much distance between them as he can. The less he has to deal with Louis one-on-one the better, but even as mad as Harry is, he can’t let go of that need to protect him; to make sure he’s at least okay as he gets completely smashed and pretends Harry doesn’t even exist.

Harry moves closer when some girl throws her arms around Louis and knocks them into the wall. Her drink sloshes all over the floor to join the rest of the spilled alcohol that other people have put there. She’s wasted. She has been since she got here around midnight and Harry can tell from the look on Louis’ face that he’s uncomfortable.

“Is everything okay here?”

Everybody in the group turns at the sound of his voice. They’ve all noticed Harry hanging close by without a steady supply of alcohol in his hand. A man and another drunken girl hurry to grab the girl who’s currently draped all over his client. They stand her up so that she isn’t leaning all of her weight on him and Louis’ eyes are instantly relieved.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, coming to stand right in front of his client so he can hear him.

His eyes are swimming with all the drinks he’s had, and yet they’re still so beautiful and impossibly blue from this close up. They trail over Harry’s face, visually taking him in as well before his attention is caught by Harry’s mouth. Suddenly there’s an ache that’s palpable between them. Harry feels it pulling at him. He’s felt it before, but just like all those other times, he pushes it down. If he would just move forward a few inches he could end the longing visible in Louis’ eyes, but he moves back a step instead, widening the space between them.

Louis tears his gaze from him. He nods once in answer to Harry’s question that he asked forever ago but he looks anything but alright when he sidesteps Harry to go around him.

The group of people he was talking with only seem mildly concerned that their host has just run off. Louis takes off up the stairs and Harry has to push through the crowd in order to keep eyes on him. They make it to the second floor and he has to run to catch Louis just before he shuts himself up in his room.

“Wait, Lou. Where are you going?” Louis blinks at the large hand holding his door open despite him trying to close it. Harry’s stronger so he widens it to better see him. “Your party is still going on. Why are you leaving it already?”

“I’m just tired…” he says eventually. He looks tired Harry notices. His eyes are glossy and wet, but they don’t have the same drunken quality as before. “I just need a minute to myself. I’ll go back down in a bit.”

“Oh. Okay.” Something is obviously wrong. Harry shouldn’t care what’s the matter with him after all he’s done, but he can’t help it. He can’t help feeling responsible somehow; responsible _for_ him. “I’ll just be right out here,” Harry promises before allowing Louis to close his bedroom door.

Despite Louis’ claim to only need a few minutes to sober up and get himself together, Harry doesn’t see him for the rest of the night.

Guests start to filter out of the house until there’s only a handful of people left who insist on falling asleep there. Harry talks to them to keep them awake and gives them water to drink. He makes sure they’re going to be alright before helping them call for somebody sober to come take them home.

Louis emerges around six in the morning looking more exhausted than he did when he locked himself in his room. He does a lap around the house to see just how filthy everything looks and then drops down at his kitchen table. It’s only after Louis gets up to start fixing himself some coffee in the snowflake mug that he loves that Harry realizes it’s Christmas. Though, nobody could tell it from the way things around them look.

“So, what time do you get to leave?”

“Er- In a few minutes I think. Liam said he’d send somebody first thing, so.”

Louis gives a solemn, resigned nod. He pastes a grin on his face when he turns to him.

“That’s really great, Harry. Enjoy Christmas with your family, yeah? I’m uh…I’m sorry I kept you here with me. I wish you could’ve gotten to see them yesterday like you were supposed to. I know they must’ve missed you.”

Harry nods, looking around at the blank house they’re standing in that doesn’t have a single holiday decoration hanging up. It’s no wonder Harry lost track of December and how close Christmas had been lurking. It’s like the holiday doesn’t even exist in this big empty house.

He has people who care about him. The house was full of them last night, but none of those people are here with him now. They’ve all gone off with their families, leaving Louis here alone with the aftermath.

He’s still angry with Louis for what he did, but Harry can’t judge him too harshly. He’s alone here, and not even just for his birthday or for Christmas, but always. His mother is gone, his father is still here but things are so weird between them that he’s certain Mr. Tomlinson won’t be dropping by for dinner with an armful of gifts for his son or vice versa. The fact that Louis is going to spend his holiday here makes something hard and uncomfortable settle inside his chest.

The words he’s been thinking push themselves out of Harry’s mouth before he even fully makes the decision to say them.

“Would you maybe like to meet them?” Harry asks, coming to stand beside Louis at the counter. “My family, I mean? If you don’t have any other plans of course.”

“What do you mean? When?” Louis’ brow furrows at his question in confusion and Harry mentally rolls his eyes at himself because he finds it cute. He could wring Louis Tomlinson’s neck for all the shit he’s put him through, but Harry could never bring himself to actually hate him. Not really.

“Uh, in about twenty or thirty minutes, I guess,” Harry says glancing at the time. “It’d give you time to pack if you do decide to come.”

After the way they’ve treated each other these past two weeks the offer must sound odd. It sounds strange to Harry too, but that doesn’t mean his offer isn’t genuine. Louis searches his face for a long time, skeptical like he doesn’t quite believe him. Harry can’t even believe himself. Yesterday he wanted nothing more than to escape from here and leave all thoughts of Louis behind and today he can’t imagine himself walking out of this house without him.

“Why are you doing this?”

Harry sighs on the end of a shrug. “Because I want to. And because it’s Christmas. You’re supposed to be with family on a day like today, so, if you want, you can borrow mine.”

Harry doesn’t expect the hug that Louis wraps him in once he realizes that Harry is serious. Harry lets himself settle into it for the few seconds that it lasts and squeezes him back.

“I’ll just uh- I’m going to go grab some clothes,” he says once he pulls away. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay, but hurry. I’m supposed to leave in a few minutes. _We_ ’ _re_ supposed to,” he corrects himself.

Louis nods and takes off up the stairs with more energy than Harry’s seen from him in a while. Harry shakes his head wondering what he’s just gotten himself into.

“Cheshire, right?” Louis calls from his bedroom. “Snow?”

“Snow!” Harry confirms remembering his earlier conversation with his mother about how this is the first white Christmas they’ve had in years. “And three days! Pack enough!” he yells, so Louis doesn’t come back down the stairs with one bloody outfit.

Harry pulls out his phone to type a message to his mother, letting her know of the change in plans.

‘ _Leaving in a bit. Be there very soon. I’m bringing a friend along. Give everybody else a heads up. Merry Christmas.’_

She replies a few minutes later. ‘Merry Christmas, Harry! We’re holding everything until you get here. And is it Liam? We can’t wait to see you both! Drive safe.’

Harry looks up at the sound of something crashing upstairs and grins at the quick, ‘ _Everything’s fine!_ ’ that gets shouted down to him straight after.

No. It definitely isn’t Liam he’s bringing home with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fyi, my heart was in my throat the whole time I wrote this. 
> 
> AND I wish I could give amazing beta kudos/awards to FallingLikeThis (Zayniam). She truly deserves them all. Thank you so much <3


	5. Chapter 5

The last time Harry had the honor of actually driving Louis Tomlinson somewhere, he’d just picked him up from the station after he snuck out for the night without saying a word to anyone, and also without anybody there to protect him. Harry was livid of course which should come as no surprise since that seems to be a running theme with the two of them.

He was pissed and also a little worried about him even though Harry wouldn’t have admitted that at the time. All of those feelings melted away though once he realized Louis didn’t do any of it to hurt him.

Today feels just like that. Like Harry can’t actually hold onto any of the anger he felt towards Louis for last night because deep down he knows that Louis didn’t mean it. He hardly even looks like the same person as Harry watches him sleep in the passenger’s seat, all curled up with his thick joggers and his hood pulled over his messy hair to help block out the sun.

He isn’t as horrible as Harry sometimes makes him out to be when he’s like this. Like this, he looks almost sweet; just like he did that night they fell asleep together, also known as the night everything went to shit. That sweetness from him didn’t last very long of course. That peaceful moment between the two of them was over just as quickly as it began because Harry immediately put an end to it. He pushed him away and closed the door that Louis was so hopeful in opening for them. Harry made things worse than he ever imagined just by doing what he thought was the right thing.

This isn’t the first time that Harry has wondered what might have happened if maybe he hadn’t.

It’s nearly ten o’clock when Harry reaches over to gently shake Louis awake. He frowns and looks confused for a moment before he sleepily blinks over at Harry behind the wheel.

“Hey. We’re almost there,” Harry informs him to jog his memory.

Louis sits up to look out the window. He grins at all the snow dusting the trees and blanketing the ground like it’s magic that put it there rather than the storm from nearly a week ago.

“It’s beautiful just like you said. I can’t believe you really grew up here.”

Harry can’t believe that Louis’ seeing it all firsthand. When Louis asked him about his childhood, Harry assumed he was just making polite conversation. He spoke in hypothetics as he helped paint a mental picture of his home town. He never thought in a million years that someday they’d end up coming here together.

“Downtown is nice, but it’s the house and the property around it that I loved so much. My mum and stepdad love giving impromptu tours to anyone who’ll listen. They’ll probably show you around if you’re feeling up to it one day.”

“You think so?” Louis grins. “I’d like that a lot. If it’s not too much of a bother for them of course.”

“Trust me, it’s not. They’ll probably force you to go even if you don’t want to. Just ask Liam. He’s living proof that you can’t actually say no to them.” He’s also the person who’s been blowing up Harry’s phone ever since he said that Louis didn’t need anyone to check in on him for the next few days because he’d be in Holmes Chapel with him; with _them_ really since Liam will be just fifteen minutes down the road at his parents’ house too for the holidays.

“I can’t wait to meet them. They sound lovely already; pushy and bossy just like you.” He playfully cuts his eyes over at him after he says it so Harry doesn’t take any offense. It’s been so long since he’s received a look like that from Louis that he almost forgot how nice it feels to have all of his attention, even if he is being teased.

They turn off of the main road to start down a long snowy path and the mirth in Louis’ eyes dulls.

“Um. So, about your family and all that stuff from yesterday…” he begins. He twists his hands in his lap and stares down at them instead of the house that’s only getting closer the faster they travel towards it. Harry immediately alleviates his guilt.

“Louis, they have no idea. I just said it was about work. I didn’t tell them why I had to stay.” Harry didn’t tell them much of anything really. Not even that Louis is the one accompanying him home today.

Louis looks relieved to hear that he’s going to be here with a clean slate. “Thanks, Harry,” he whispers, looking much more at ease. “And I’m sorry. Again. If that helps.”

“You’re welcome. And you’ve said sorry already. A few times now.”

“I know, but I feel horrible. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I just wasn’t.”

They hated each other this time yesterday, or so Harry thought. It’s obvious now that something else was going on there, but even after that whole disaster Harry can’t help feeling like maybe that’s how things were supposed to happen. If they hadn’t, Harry would be pulling up to his parent’s house alone right now. He wouldn’t have invited Louis to come along with him and Louis would be left with no one. _That_ can’t be how things were supposed to go. Louis should never be left alone, no matter what either of them did or said.  

“Louis, I appreciate it, but you don’t have to keep apologizing,” Harry says as he puts the car in park and cuts the ignition. “It’s all in the past now, so let’s just leave it there. It’s like a fresh start for both of us. Deal?”

A small grin pulls at the corner of Louis’ lips making Harry’s offer feel more like a truce or at least another large step in the right direction.

“Yeah, H. Deal.”

*

Harry is struggling with balancing all of his things in his hands as he and Louis climb the front steps to the house. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to let go of his bags to wrestle with the door because someone from inside wrenches it open as soon they hear him on the other side of it.

“Haz!” His sister comes flying at him out of nowhere, almost knocking him backwards from the force of her hug and the high pitch of her squeal.

“Oh, I missed you so much!” she says, still holding him in a crushing embrace even though she’s half his size. “I haven’t seen you in months. What on earth took you so long to get here?”

She pulls back to smile up at him but her hand quickly clamps over her mouth instead when she notices the person standing behind him.

“ _That’s Louis Fucking Tomlinson,”_ is all Harry can make out through her fingers. Harry laughs, but it immediately turns into a yelp of pain when Gemma punches his arm through his coat. “That is _not_ Liam!” And she is not fucking light-handed.

“Ow! That actually hurt, and I never said it _was_ him!” Harry argues, shrinking away in case Gemma goes for round two.

She draws her arm back again, but it quickly falls to her side when Louis clears his throat and comes to stand beside Harry with an outstretched hand.

“Hi there. Er- I’m Louis Fucking Tomlinson. It’s nice to meet you, Gemma.” Harry witnesses a miracle when his big sister stills and blushes under the influence of Louis’ bright smile. He’s never seen her do that. Like, ever. “I’m so sorry for intruding and crashing your holiday like this,” he begins, but Gemma shakes her head.

“No, you’re not intruding at all. I was just surprised. I wasn’t expecting you,” she says with traitorous look over at Harry.

The rest of the family comes to the door and has a very similar reaction to Gemma’s. His parents, grandparents, aunt and uncle, and future brother-in-law all freeze when they notice Louis there. Nobody else turns to physical violence upon seeing him _thank God_ , but they all look quite shocked to see Louis Tomlinson standing on the front steps with a giant duffle bag in his hands.

Harry’s mother doesn’t let Louis’ presence dampen her warmth or her manners as she introduces herself and welcomes him inside just like any other guest visiting their home.

“We’ve been holding everything until you two arrived. Now it finally feels like Christmas,” she tells Louis as she takes his bag and shows him to the guest room upstairs. All Harry got from her was a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, but he doesn’t really mind his mother fussing over somebody else. Harry gets showered with his family’s love all the time. Louis should get to experience some of that too.

The entranceway is buzzing with talk about Harry bringing a celebrity home as soon as Louis is out of earshot. Their excited chatter carries over into the living room where he assumes everybody had been congregated before he and Louis arrived. In the end he’s left with only Gemma, who just stares at him like he’s committed some giant act of betrayal.

“What? I didn’t think it’d be a big deal!” he says in defense of himself. “I figured you and Nathan _might_ know who he is but not everybody else.” To him, Louis’ just Louis; talented, evil, charming, and at times _exasperating_ , Louis. He sometimes forgets that the world knows his name too, which apparently now includes his grandparents of all people. There’s no way they know what the fuck an EP is or how to purchase one. They must’ve Googled it.

“No, little bro. It’s not a big deal at all,” Gemma assures him. “It’s a fucking _massive_ one.”

Harry is too slow to dodge the new punch she aims at his arm, but it’s much softer this time. It’s also immediately forgiven when she pulls him into another tight hug.

“I really did miss you, you know. I’m so glad you’re here with us. And Louis too; your super famous _‘_ friend _’_ who’s coincidentally _completely_ your type and somebody whom I already like _way_ more than you.”

“Wow, Gems. Thanks,” Harry deadpans, “And as per usual, you don’t know what you’re talking about because Louis and I _are_ ‘friends’,” Harry insists, making weird air quotes around the word just like Gemma did when she said it. Sure, it took him and Louis a while to get there and they occasionally fight like cats and dogs, but he _does_ consider Louis a good friend. He’s spent so much time with him over the months that he’s almost ranked right up there with Liam.

Gemma just grins at him with that fond, poor idiot look she’s been giving him since they were kids. Probably even since the day he was born.

“Yeah, Haz. I know. I get it,” she nods in agreement. “You’re totally right. What you said,” she says before skipping off to the living room where everybody else disappeared to. Harry doesn’t have the brain power nor the energy to work out what the hell that means, so he just lets her go. It’s easier.

*

Everyone’s patience is unraveling from having to wait so long for Harry to get home that they dive straight into gift exchanges as soon as he and Louis have had a minute to settle in. It’s tradition for his family to open one present on Christmas Eve, but things were done differently this year since Harry wasn’t able to make it. His parents start pulling gifts from beneath the tree and handing them off to their rightful owners. In just a few short minutes everybody in the room has a small stack of gifts beside them which makes Harry feel strange about his own because Louis doesn’t have anything.

Louis doesn’t seem uncomfortable or look like he feels left out. He’s grinning just watching everybody else enjoy themselves. His happy expression only brightens when two colorfully wrapped boxes are placed in his lap.

“These are for you. And sorry about the name,” his mother winces through a smile. “It was really short notice and we couldn’t find the extra gift labels so we kind of panicked. Merry Christmas?”

Harry peeks at the gifts with Liam’s name hastily scratched out on each of the labels and Louis’ name written in black sharpie just above it. Harry is horrified looking at the mess that is clearly the handy-work of his sister if the penmanship is anything to go by. Louis laughs like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

The room can’t help laughing with him when he unwraps a pair of fuzzy socks with reindeer all over them and big ‘H’s’ printed on the bottom that were obviously intended for Harry. His second gift is a new can of Pringles that probably came straight from the kitchen cupboard because they were Liam’s favorite snack back when they were little. They’re obviously a favorite of Louis’ too since he opens them to eat a few.

Louis thanks his family for the clearly last-minute gifts and says how honored he is to be their fake Liam stand-in for the day. He got shit gifts for Christmas surrounded by a room full of complete strangers, but you wouldn’t be able to tell it from the happy light in his eyes. For some reason, Harry can’t bring himself to look away.

Harry’s grandparents and aunt and uncle leave a couple of hours later leaving him and Louis with just his parents, his sister, and her fiancé. Harry is sprawled out on the sofa with his stomach full from the lunch he just scarfed down when he overhears his stepdad telling Louis all about the house and the property. It’s not even a minute later when he’s convinced Louis and everybody else to go for a walking tour through the snow.

Harry is stuffed and he’s also running off of no sleep and a two and a half hour drive up here. He’s exhausted so he politely declines the offer for the chance at a nap instead.

“Sure you don’t want to come with?” comes a familiar voice a few minutes later just as Harry was beginning to drift off.

He cracks his eyes open to find Louis standing over him in a blue knitted hat with a rainbow-colored ball on the end. Harry thought he lost it years ago after wearing it so much that the ball fell off. Someone’s clearly mended it and kept it all these years; his mother most likely. He goes to tell Louis whom the hat really belongs to, but it looks better on him anyway so Harry just grins.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’d love to go but I’d probably crash mid-tour. I honestly don’t know how I haven’t yet.”

“Yeah, you definitely deserve a nice long rest,” Louis agrees. “You get some sleep then. We’ll see you in a little bit.”

He turns to leave and almost makes it out of the room, but Harry can’t stop the little comment that spills out of his mouth watching Louis pull the sides of his hat further down over his ears.

“Nice hat by the way.”

Louis faces him in the doorway, his hand instinctively moving to touch the thick material of it. “Thanks. Er- Your mum’s letting me use it for a while because I forgot to bring one. Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay. I don’t mind,” Harry assures him. “And you should keep it. It looks good. Your eyes look better with it than mine ever did.”

Harry is a pretty good distance away where he’s lying on the couch, but he’s almost positive that Louis’ face heats up. He says thanks after awkwardly clearing his throat. He tells Harry that he’ll think about it and then hurries out the door to catch up with everybody else. Harry blames that weirdness on the fact that he hasn’t closed in eyes in twenty-four hours.

It feels like he’s been asleep for years when someone gently rubs his back to wake him. The last person he saw before he passed out was Louis so naturally, he expects to see him again when he turns over but it’s his mum sitting next to him instead.

“Hey. How was it?” he drawls, his mouth not quite as awake as the rest of him yet.

“Really fun. We had a nice walk around. It was good to get out of the house for a bit. We got back about a couple of hours ago.”

A couple of _hours_ ago?

Harry frowns, rubbing his eyes to consult the screen of his phone for the time. He’s been asleep for almost three hours. “Why didn’t someone wake me up?”

“Well, we were going to but Louis said you didn’t get much sleep last night. He thought we should let you get some rest and I agreed. You looked exhausted, love.”

Harry appreciates the thought, but he didn’t intend to leave Louis alone with his family for that long or vice versa.

“Was he okay with you?”

“More than. He’s really amazing; a very sweet, thoughtful man. He also happens to be incredibly handsome. I can definitely see what all the fuss is about in the magazines.”

His mother smiles, but Harry feels like it’s meant more for _him_ rather than Louis. Gemma has been walking around smirking and giving Harry sneaky air quotes over Louis’ head every time the two of them so much as look at each other. His mother isn’t being _that_ annoying, but still, Harry knows that look.

“No, Mum. Louis and I…we’re not-”

“I know.” She stops his denial before he can even get it out. “I already asked him. We had a little chat.”

Harry’s heart seizes in his chest. With the way things have been going between them lately, Harry can only imagine how that conversation went.

“Oh. Um, what did he say exactly?” he asks.

“Only that he’s enjoyed getting to know my wonderful son. He also said that you’ve been a great bodyguard and friend to him, though something tells me he wouldn’t really mind you being more than that.”

Harry rolls his eyes. He thought they were actually getting somewhere here, but she’s just as bad as Gemma. That’s probably where she gets it.

“And what gave you that impression, Mum? What else did he say?” There’s a whole list of things that he could’ve mentioned, all of which would make it very hard for Harry to look his mother in the eye and say that everything he feels for Louis is strictly platonic.

“Relax, love. He didn’t say anything,” she grins. “He didn’t have to. And neither do you.” And that’s all she gives him before dropping a kiss to his forehead and returning to the kitchen.

Harry rolls back over on the sofa and buries his face in it. He wonders why his mother even woke him up if it was just to attack him with wild speculations that hold more truth than he’s willing to admit. He and Louis can barely manage basic friendship without killing each other and somehow people look at them and see romantic _couple_? He doesn’t get it.

Harry wanders into the kitchen to join everybody else and finds them all sitting around the island in the middle of the room. All the stools are taken, but there’s an empty one between his mother, and of course, Louis.

“Oh, look, it’s Sleeping Beauty,” Gemma mumbles.

Harry laughs along with everybody else and playfully yanks at his sister’s hair when he walks past.

A mug of hot chocolate is pushed in front of him when he sits down. He’s surprised to see that it was Louis who poured it.

“Thanks,” Harry says as he attempts to try his drink without burning the shit out of his tongue. It’s too hot at the moment, so he decides to just wait.

“You’re welcome. So, how’d you sleep?” Louis asks.

“So good. I probably would’ve slept till morning if my mum didn’t wake me.”

Louis kindly grins over his mug at him. “I bet you feel so much better now.”

“Yeah, I do. I feel great. Rested. Thanks for getting me a couple of extra hours. I definitely needed it.” The small amount of time he would’ve gotten if Louis hadn’t spoken up about him needing more sleep wouldn’t have made much of a difference in the grand scheme of the day.

“Of course, Haz. I was just looking out for you. Don’t mention it.” Louis smiles and Harry feels the full weight of it focused in on him.

No one in the kitchen is paying the two of them much attention right now. Everyone is paired off and lost in their own little couple worlds. It’s a fascinating club that he and Louis are most definitely not a part of. For starters, he and Louis aren’t dropping random kisses to each other’s hands and faces between every other sentence, and Harry’s pretty certain that no one in the history of the world has ever looked at another person the way Nathan looks at Gemma.

He and Louis don’t have any of those tell-tale factors. Harry doesn’t think he could stomach it if they did, but there are some similarities between them that Harry can see. Like, the way Louis faces him with his whole body as they talk or how their arms and legs brush against one another sometimes but neither of them seems to care. If anything, Louis just leans closer. Liam doesn’t care if they bump elbows and he always faces Harry when they speak, but they’ve also been friends a very long time. The interactions are exactly the same and yet for some reason they feel so different with Louis; weightier somehow.

At some point Louis drops one hand away from his mug to rest it on top of the island, and for a brief moment Harry wonders what it would be like to hold it like his mum and stepdad are currently doing; if it would feel as strange and awkward as he knows it would probably look.

He doesn’t do it of course. He can’t just hold Louis’ hand and take it for a test drive because everybody else in the room is doing it, but just like Louis (according to his mother, that is) he wouldn’t exactly mind it.

They all sit down to dinner a few hours later and things feel exactly the same around the kitchen table as they did around the island. Louis is by his side, laughing and talking with his family like he fits right in, and it’s because he does. His lips hold a tiny smile the whole night and Harry can’t stop staring.

Everyone moves to the living room to watch movies by the light of the fireplace after dessert. His parents make it about half-way through _It’s A Wonderful Life_ before they say goodnight. Gemma and Nathan last a little while longer, but they don’t make it to the end. Harry and Louis are the last ones standing in the end with the soft glow of the tv and the dying embers of the fire illuminating the room.

The credits roll and Louis uncurls himself from the little ball he’s been sitting in all night in front of the sofa. He crawls closer to the hearth that’s still giving off a considerable amount of heat even though the flames went out a while ago.

“Cold?” Harry laughs, figuring he must be since he’s been wiggling his fingers and toes in front of the fireplace all night. Harry’s stepfather noticed and gave him a blanket earlier, but that didn’t stop Louis’ fascination with sitting as close to it as possible.

“No, I’m not really cold. I just like the way it feels,” he admits. “There’s one at the house that you’ve probably seen. It never gets used anymore, but my mum loved it. She’d bake us to death in the winter because it was rarely cold enough to use it, but I liked it anyway,” he smiles.

“Why don’t you use it then?” It never really got cold while they were at Louis’ house, but they had a few chilly days and nights where a fire could’ve been nice.

Louis shrugs, his voice not quite as reminiscent as before. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “It’s not really the same without her. My dad never liked it. He always said it made the house too warm, so.”

“Where is he today?” This is the first time he’s heard Louis mention him.

“He’s with his sister and her family more than likely. That’s usually what he does for holidays and other stuff like that.”

“You two don’t spend any of them together? Not even Christmas?” Harry can’t imagine not being with his family for days like this. He looks forward to seeing them so much.

“Our first Christmas without my mum was so weird. It was like we didn’t know what to do with the day if she wasn’t around to tell us,” he grins. It fades just moments later and Harry instantly misses it. “He moved out a few weeks later and every holiday since then just feels forced. He can’t stand being in the house and I can’t stand leaving it to go celebrate with my aunt who’s lovely, but also has enough to deal with without me and dad bickering over Christmas dinner. It’s easier for everyone if we just do our own thing.”

He glances over at Harry and must see the sadness on his face “It’s not all bad. Things are much better between us since we have to see each other at the label a lot. I called him on his birthday like you said. He seemed to really like that. He called me yesterday to do the same, so that’s new.”

“You should call him tonight too. It’s not too late.”

“Haz, it’s half past eleven. Christmas is basically over at this point.”

He chuckles like Harry’s idea is crazy, but Harry isn’t buying it. It doesn’t matter which day it is or isn’t.

“I bet he’d still like to hear from you, Louis. Even if he is already in bed and it goes straight to voicemail, at least he’ll wake up tomorrow morning and know that you were thinking about him.”

“Yeah. I guess so,” he sighs after a long pause.

Louis doesn’t move to grab his phone like Harry assumes he will. He stays by the hearth and changes the subject to the next movie they should watch like the heavy conversation about his dad never even happened.

All Harry can do is offer advice. That doesn’t mean that Louis is going to take it. If Louis doesn’t want to call his father tonight, that’s okay because there’s always next year. And if he comes around before that, and Harry _really_ hopes that he does, there’s always tomorrow.

It’s a little after midnight when Harry calls it quits and heads up to bed. Louis says he isn’t tired enough to sleep yet so he stays where he is in front of the fireplace to watch the rest of the new movie he chose.

Harry is already upstairs and in his bed before he realizes he left his phone in the living room. He sighs, pulling the covers back to go get it. He slumps back downstairs but pauses just at the living room door when he hears Louis’ voice instead of the movie he was expecting. Harry listens for a few moments, unsure of who he’s even speaking to since all of his family is asleep upstairs. He grins when he realizes Louis’ on the phone with his dad.

His phone is in there somewhere. The whole reason he got out of bed was to get it, but he doesn’t want to interrupt their conversation; they have far too few as it is. Harry quietly returns to his room, happy to leave the phone until morning. Anything is worth it if it gives Louis time with his father. Even if it’s just a quick chat at almost one in the morning.

*

Harry reaches for his phone the next day to check the time. He remembers a whole minute too late that he forgot it last night, so he pulls his arm back under the blanket again where it’s nice and warm. He could probably fall back asleep if he tried hard enough, but the smell of food cooking downstairs is too good to ignore.

He takes a quick shower and heads downstairs. He makes a pit stop by the living room for his phone, frowning when it isn’t lying on the coffee table or stuffed between the sofa cushions like he figured it would be.

Maybe he left it somewhere else last night. The kitchen would be his next guess since he and Louis were raiding the cupboards for snacks. Luckily, that’s exactly where he’s going anyway.

The first person he sees upon entering the room is his mother as per usual, except today she’s sitting at the table with everybody else instead of hovering over a stove full of frying pans. Harry’s stomach had been anticipating some of her delicious cooking, but she’s not the person who’s preparing everyone’s food this morning; it’s Louis.  

“Well, look who it is everybody. Fresh from hibernation.”

Louis glances over his shoulder at Gemma’s announcement and grins when he sees Harry standing in the doorway. “Hey, Haz. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Harry says to the room, feeling a little strange with his client up doing all the work while everybody else is just sitting around. “So, uh, this is different. What are we all doing exactly?”

“Waiting and relaxing, by order of Master Chef Louis,” his mother answers. “He says I’m not to lift a finger this morning except for tea and I quite like the sound of that,” she says as she takes a fresh sip from the mug in her hands.

Louis throws a grin over his shoulder at her and she winks back at him like they’re best friends or partners in crime. Harry has no idea why the thought of that makes him smile so much, but it does.

He goes to sit down with everybody else, but then remembers that he’s still on the hunt. “Hey, has anybody seen my phone? I can’t find it.” He’s met with a long line of sympathetic head shakes and one loud, ‘ _I have it over here,’_ from the stove.

Thank God.

“Where was it?” Harry searches the countertops around Louis when he walks over to him and sees nothing but delicious food. “Okay, new question. Where _is_ it?” he laughs.

“You left it on the couch when you went up to bed,” Louis explains. He turns away from the stove for a moment and angles his right hip in Harry’s direction. “It’s right here in my pocket. I’d get it, but my hands are a mess.”

Harry reaches out his hand and very nearly shoves it into Louis’ pocket like he said but he thinks better of it when he hears the entire kitchen go silent. A quick glance at the kitchen table confirms that every pair of eyes in the room is glued to them. Louis raises an eyebrow when Harry quickly drops his hand to his side.

“Er- I’ll just wait until you’re finished cooking. I don’t mind,” he says, feeling the temperature of his face rise a few degrees because his family is still fucking staring.

Louis doesn’t seem to notice them. He gives Harry a curious look before shrugging and turning back to his food. “Alright then. Suit yourself,” he says. “I’ll be finished here in a little while.”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself after that. He’s not much of a cook and even if he were, Louis’ doing a fine job all on his own. Harry would go join his family and wait for breakfast to get done, but something tells Harry that if he goes over there his mother is going to grin at him and Gemma is going to make more stupid air quotes because Louis is turned around. He really doesn’t want to ruin the holiday by having to break all of her delicate fingers so he stays where he is.

“I’m going to make coffee,” Harry announces. It’s his safest and best option at the moment. He can’t flirt with coffee and coffee can’t pry about his complicated relationship with his client. Coffee also doesn’t wear skin-tight jeans with the world’s tiniest pockets for Harry to dig things out of, so coffee is definitely the way to go.

He finds Louis up in the guest room a couple of hours later after everyone else leaves to go shopping. He’s sitting in the middle of the bed with a couple of his journals sprawled around him. He’s got one in his lap that he stops writing in when he hears a knock on his open door.

He wedges his pen between the pages of his book before closing it and placing it on the bed along with the others.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Not much. Looking for you,” Harry admits.

“Well, you found me,” Louis says, looking around the small guestroom. Harry feels a little weird talking to him from the doorway like this.

“Do you mind if I come in?”

Louis grins at that, his eyes crinkling a bit at the corners the way they do when he finds something really funny.

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” he smiles. “It’s your house. Your guestroom.”

“Not really. It’s all yours for now,” Harry shrugs, hit by a sudden wave of déjà vu remembering the first time Louis came to visit him like this in the pool house. Harry takes a seat at the foot of the bed when Louis gestures for him to sit down. “So, what are you doing up here all by yourself? You kind of disappeared.”

“I was just writing a bit. Nothing serious. Just random stuff I’ve been thinking about lately and all that other junk I’m probably boring you with.”

Harry doesn’t think that’s boring. He never has. Even when Louis was a pain in the arse Harry enjoyed hearing about his writing and his work. It makes him sad that Louis thinks he wouldn’t care about something as important as that.

“Could I maybe hear a little bit of what you’re working on? No judgment. I’m just curious…nosy, more like,” Harry jokes.

At first Louis looks completely flattered by the request, but the longer he thinks about it the more he seems to convince himself that it’s not a good idea. His grin falters a bit, but he pastes it right back on his face. It’s just not as genuine as it had been.

“No, Haz. I don’t mind, but uh, maybe later? It’s just- it’s not really finished yet, and like I said, it’s nothing too serious, so.”

“No, I get it. That’s fine. Whenever you’re ready.”

After what happened the last time Louis opened up and shared his innermost thoughts, Harry can’t really blame him for being cautious. Harry still can’t believe how wrong that night went.

The air doesn’t feel as light as it has the past two days. Louis’ probably thinking about that night too. That’s the only explanation Harry has for the way he subconsciously moves his hand to hide his journal from sight and how his beautiful eyes are now downcast rather than locked with Harry’s.

“…I actually came up here for a reason,” Harry says after a long stretch of silence. “I was going to go for a walk since I didn’t go with you guys yesterday. I’d love some company if you don’t mind taking the same tour twice.”

Louis blinks up at him and Harry immediately feels better just holding his gaze.

“With just us?”

From the way his brow furrows, Harry isn’t sure if Louis wants that be a yes or a no. “Um, yeah?” Harry eventually settles on. “That’s what I was thinking. Unless you think it’s not a good idea of course. Then we don’t have to.”

“No, I do. I want to,” Louis insists. “I just- I didn’t think _you’d_ want to,” he admits. Things didn’t used to be this hard for them. Harry wishes they could just go back to how it was before when they spent entire days together without a second thought. “I liked exploring around yesterday. I’d love to go again with you. As friends,” he tacks on when he realizes that could be interpreted in a weird way.

Harry grins at him, but Louis is so busy avoiding his eyes again that he doesn’t see it.

“Why don’t we just meet downstairs in a couple of minutes? As just us.”

Louis does look at up at him now and once again, Harry is mesmerized by the color of his eyes.

“Okay. I’ll be there,” Louis promises.

Harry’s face breaks into a wide smile that he’s glad no one but Louis is here to see. His family sure as hell wouldn’t let him live it down.

Louis shows up on the front steps just after Harry does dressed in thick layers with Harry’s blue hat pulled down over his ears again. Louis catches him staring but doesn’t say anything. Harry doesn’t think he’s imagining the faint blush on his cheeks when he clears his throat.

“You ready to go?” he asks.

He doesn’t really give Harry time to answer before he’s leading the way down the frozen steps. Harry hurries to keep up with him. He smiles to himself because even though things are slightly different between them after everything that’s happened, this is still exactly the same.

They fall into step beside each other following the footprints that Louis and his family made the day before. Everything feels much easier out here in the crisp fresh air. It’s like they can both breathe again. Neither of them even minds the silence as they walk. It’s comforting just having Louis there by his side.

“So, do I actually get any information on this tour or what?”

“Oh. Er- Sure. What do you want to know?” Harry has never been good at this kind of thing. His parents are the masters at knowing everything about this place. Harry just lived here for three-fourths of his life. What does he know?

“Why don’t we start with the landscape?” Louis suggests. “Educate me.”

“Uh, right…” Harry doesn’t know anything besides the fact that it’s pretty. “So, these are the trees. They’re evergreens. Some aren’t, but obviously you can see that since they’re no longer green. And what we’re walking on right now is usually a dirt path. Obviously today we can’t see it, but. Yeah.”

“A _dirt_ path, huh?” he grins. “Damn. I would’ve guessed gravel. Who knew?”

Harry is doing his best here so he’s slightly annoyed by Louis’ sarcasm at first, but he’s looks happy and he’s smiling at him again so Harry welcomes the banter and the teasing. He wishes Louis would do more of that honestly. He misses it.

“So, I uh…I called my dad last night like you said,” Louis informs him when they reach the end of the drive and turn left to walk along the road. There are no new footprints here, so Harry knows Louis hasn’t gone this way before. Harry peeks over at him gently kicking at the fresh snow beneath his feet and Harry can’t help but feel immensely proud of him. Even more so than he did when he found Louis quietly tucked into the side of the couch with the phone to his ear.

“Really? How was it?” From what Harry heard or accidentally eavesdropped everything sounded like it was going well.

“Believe it or not, it was actually alright. He said he was glad I called even though it technically wasn’t even Christmas anymore. He said he was up anyway. Couldn’t sleep.”

Louis couldn’t sleep either. Like father like son he reckons. Harry had tried to stay up with him, but exhaustion won in the end. “I’m glad you two had a nice a.m. chat. It sounds really nice.” It sounds like they’re both trying actually and that’s all Harry has ever wanted for Louis.

“Yeah, he mentioned maybe spending the holiday together next year. I doubt we actually will. It’s been so long that we probably don’t even remember how to do things like that, but I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”

“You two could always come here if your house feels like too much all at once. My family already survived _you_ being here at Christmas. What’s one more Tomlinson added to the madness?”

“I know. They haven’t even gawked at me since yesterday. It’s like I’m not even a bloody celebrity anymore,” he teases.

“That’s because you’re not. Not while you’re here anyway. You’re one of us.”

Louis smiles at that, the kind that crinkles his eyes and sends Harry’s stomach swooping in that way that he’s always tried to ignore.

“It feels like I am. Thanks again for letting me tag along. Your family is so amazing. You’re really lucky, Haz.”

“Well, that makes two of us, because you’re welcome here anytime.”

He hopes Louis knows that he means it with all of his heart.

*

They walk back to the house when Harry’s nose is so red that Louis has started making Rudolf jokes and Louis’ toes are so cold that he tries bartering for a piggyback ride. Harry has enough to manage just carrying his own weight through the snow. He doesn’t need to add Louis’ to it so they end up wiping out on a patch of ice.

“What kind of bodyguard are you,” Louis rolls his eyes. “I tell you I have frostbite and your response is fuck you.”

“I am not carrying your adult-sized arse through the fucking snow,” Harry laughs, ducking when Louis scoops a handful of it off the front steps and flings it at him. That’s one of the reasons they’re freezing in the first place; the impromptu snowball fight that Louis started when Harry was telling him all about the little wooden bridge he used to play on when he was little. He hasn’t had that much fun in that spot in years. It felt just like being a kid again.

“You probably can’t even pick me up. Come to think of it, I asked if you could on day one. I never did receive a demonstration of this ‘strength’ you claim to possess.”

“Hey. I’m pretty strong,” Harry insists. He takes his strength training very seriously. He doesn’t like Louis implying otherwise.

“Well, we know you can’t kick a football for shit. That’s for sure,” Louis mutters on his way through the front door. It was barely even loud enough for anybody to hear, but Harry catches it and declares war right then and there when he scoops up as much snow as his hands can hold and shoves it down the back of Louis’ coat.

The sound that he makes is terrifying. It’s like an animal has been just been wounded, but he turns on Harry with the brightest smile he’s ever seen as he tackles him to the ground.

They fall backwards in the middle of his parents’ entryway and Harry can’t breathe, but it’s not because Louis is particularly strong or adept at pining him down; it’s just because he can’t stop fucking laughing. It feels like fighting Gemma or an angry Terrier. Harry could easily flip them and gain the upper hand here, but he can’t catch his breath enough to move. He doesn’t really want to move from under him either if he being honest.

“I’m suffocating,” is all Harry can choke out between gasps of laughter and Louis shows him no sympathy.

“ _Good_ ,” he laughs. “That’s what you get for being a dick.” Louis winces as soon as the last word leaves his mouth. “Shit. I didn’t mean to say that in your mum’s house…”

Harry follows Louis’ gaze when his voice drops off at the end. From the way Louis lets go of his wrists, Harry expects to see his mother standing right there watching them, but the person he sees when he tilts his head back is his best friend instead.

“Li.” Louis stands to let Harry up when he starts fidgeting to get free. “What are you doing here?” Harry glances out the open door and notices Liam’s car in the drive for the first time. He didn’t even see it when he and Louis were walking up. He guesses he must’ve been distracted.

“I came to see you. We all did,” he explains. “Our parents went out for a bit. I wanted to stay here and wait for you two.”

Louis isn’t on top of him anymore, but Liam is still blinking at them like he’s just seen a ghost or Louis Tomlinson straddling his best friend like it’s completely normal.

“My clothes are soaked so I’m just going to head upstairs,” Louis announces when the silence gets weird. He straightens out his clothes when he stands and gives Liam a quick hug hello. Louis side steps him to hurry up the stairs and Liam doesn’t even watch him go, he just stares at Harry with this expression that doesn’t look like it’s going to be any fun.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“I just got back from a walk.”

“I know. We’re going on another one.” Liam doesn’t leave much room for discussion when he grabs his coat and scarf from the coat rack and starts down the stairs. Harry sighs, feeling like he’s chasing after Louis all over again when he hurries to catch up with him.

“You can say it, you know. Whatever it is you didn’t want to say at the house.” It must really be something for Liam to drag them all the way out to the pond that Harry’s only seen frozen over like this a few times in their lives.

“I thought you hated him.”

Harry figured that was coming. Actually he was expecting a lot worse.

“I don’t hate Louis, Li.” It’s as simple as that. Or at least Harry wishes it could be. Liam doesn’t seem to be buying it.

“Harry, one minute you’re complaining that he’s obnoxious and the next you’re the best of friends. One day you’re talking about quitting the whole assignment because you can’t take it anymore and the next you bring him home for _Christmas_?” Liam shakes his head like he doesn’t see how any of that adds up. “Harry, this makes no sense.” Harry is well aware.

“Does it have to?”

Nothing about Louis makes sense to Harry and he’s pretty sure the same is true the other way around. The two of them shouldn’t work and yet somehow they do. He can’t explain it and he doesn’t really think he needs to. It’s like Louis said that night after they kissed; things have always been this way between them. It just took Harry a while to see it. It took him even longer to start accepting it.

“Haz, I’m not here to be the bad guy.” Or the bad _cop_ Harry thinks, fighting a grin because he knows Louis would laugh at that too if he was here. “I just don’t understand what happened between a few days ago when you were screaming at me about how much you wanted to get away from him and ten minutes ago when you looked the happiest I’ve ever seen.”

Harry _was_ happy with Louis just now. He still is. He’s always happy with Louis when he isn’t being a little shit and Harry isn’t being a dishonest one. When they’re good, they’re really good. He simply forgot how good it feels to not be fighting with him.

Harry can’t believe he fucked up as badly as he did the night Louis told him how he felt. He should have just kissed him back.

*

Liam and his parents stay for dinner, during which Harry only notices more differences between the way it feels talking with Louis sitting on his left and his best friend sitting on his right.

He enjoys chatting with both of them, but as usual, he feels drawn to Louis. He can feel his whole body aching to turn and face him like a magnet being pulled each time he laughs or cracks a joke for the table. Harry doesn’t want to ignore his best friend. He stays put and tries his best to focus on everyone in the room, but there’s no denying that Louis is the star in his eyes. He’s the brightest light here and Harry just wants to bathe in all of his rays.

It’s still early when everyone stands up from the table and moves to the living room. Harry feels his heart sink when Louis shoots him and everybody else an apologetic look before excusing himself from the party to go upstairs for a bit. Everyone waves him goodbye. Harry misses him before he’s even half-way up the stairs.

“Don’t worry. Your ‘friend’ will be back soon,” Gemma grins. Harry doesn’t even care that she’s being annoying right now. He doesn’t argue that Louis is just his friend either. Why lie? It’s not like anybody believes him anyway.

He follows the rest of the group into the living room, but his attention is up on the second floor.

Harry lasts a whole hour before he’s so anxious not knowing what Louis is doing or when he’s coming back that even Nathan quietly calls out his fidgeting. Harry hasn’t really listened to a single word that’s been said since Louis left. The tv is on, but he can’t focus on that either.

He stands up after another thirty minutes have passed. Everyone in the room blinks at him, half of them smirking like they already know what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth.

“I’m just going to go check on Louis.”

“Okay, love,” his mum nods. “That’s a good idea. He’s been gone a while. Maybe he’s not feeling well.”

This is why Harry loves his mother.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, already half-way out of the room. He hears the _no he won’t_ that Gemma mumbles making everybody else cough and clear their throats to keep from laughing.

Harry heads straight for the guest room when he reaches the top of the stairs. He doesn’t hear any movement coming from inside. He presses his ear to the door and still hears nothing.

He knocks a couple of times, but no one comes to let him in so he carefully pushes the door open to pop his head in.

The room is dark except for the small lamp on Louis’ bedside table that he obviously forgot about before he drifted off. He was writing. One of his notebooks is open and facing down on his chest that rises and falls with each slow breath he takes. Harry grins in the doorway, knowing he should wake Louis up because he won’t be able to sleep tonight but he also doesn’t want to disturb him looking so cute.

Harry walks over to him and gently lifts his notebook from his chest. It’s opened to the last page he was working on. Harry’s eyes long to take a closer look at the words scribbled across it. He found Louis up here writing earlier today too. He wants to know what it is he’s been thinking so much about that he’s had to sneak away to write it down on two separate occasions.

Harry doesn’t even feel selfish hoping it’s him. Or that it’s _still_ him, he guesses.

He places the notebook on the bedside table along with the pen that fell out of Louis’ hand. Harry sits down on the edge of the bed and the movement causes Louis to stir. He breathes in deep, slowing releasing the air he inhaled before opening his eyes.

“I fell asleep.”

“You did,” Harry confirms, smiling at the way Louis’ hair sticks up after he runs his fingers through it.

“For how long?”

“Six hours,” Harry says just to watch his eyes grow wide. “I’m just joking,” he laughs. “You were only gone about an hour and a half but I think you were writing for most of it.”

That seems to be a more acceptable timeframe to Louis when he nods, but his forehead is still crinkled as he watches Harry watching him.

“Did Liam and his parents already leave?”

“No, they’re still downstairs.”

“Oh…then what are you doing up here?” he asks, like Harry should be anywhere in the world right now rather than sitting on the edge of his bed.

Harry says the first thing he thinks of with Louis’ blue eyes trained on him so carefully.

“I missed you.”

Harry has been too far away from him these last few days to be sure if Louis is actually blushing when Harry says things like that or if he’s imagining it. He’s sitting right beside Louis today though. Harry can see every flicker of his face and every pink splotch that appears across the apples of his cheeks.

Louis clears his throat and quickly sits up while trying to avoid Harry’s eyes. He’s doing a poor job of it, attempting to change the subject to what everybody else is doing downstairs. Harry doesn’t want to talk about them. He left them for a reason and he’s currently right in front of him.

He feels Louis’ freeze when Harry finally does what he’s been longing to for days and takes one of Louis’ hands in his.

“Er- I- I should go wash my face,” he says. “So I look more awake before I head back down.”

“I think you look perfect. You should stay right here.”

The look Louis fixes him with is dangerous when Harry squeezes his hand to try and keep him there. He’s not running, but he keeps looking at Harry like maybe he should.

“Why are you being this way, Harry? You said you wanted to be friends and I’m trying to but you make it so much harder when you’re saying things and doing things just to get under my skin. It just makes me feel worse, and for the record, friends don’t do _this_ ,” he says, gesturing at the short distance between them and their hands linked together the way Harry’s been itching to do since they got here.

“Do you still write about me? About _us_?” Harry asks. The random question only makes Louis’ expression harden more.

“Does it matter if I do?" he snaps. "It’s not like you ever cared before.”

Harry cares so much that all he wants is to go back to the night that Louis kissed him. He wants the chance to redo it and apologize to Louis for telling him his feelings weren’t genuine. Harry's never felt something more real than the desire to kiss him right now.

“I don’t want to be friends with you. Nobody looks at us and sees two friends, Louis. Not even me. Not anymore.”

That softens his sharp gaze. Not a whole lot, but it was definitely a chink in his armor. “Well, I see me and a complete twat who wouldn’t even kiss me back,” he snaps. “I felt so fucking stupid for thinking you felt anything at all towards me. I couldn't understand how I'd gotten that so painfully wrong.”

That puts a chink in Harry's armor that cuts all the way down to his heart. He never wanted Louis to feel that way.

“I was the idiot, Lou, and I am so, so sorry.”

“You should be,” Louis scoffs.

“I _am,_ ” Harry assures him, grinning because he can’t even tell if they’re fighting right now. It doesn’t feel like it. “I wish I could go back and stop myself from hurting you like that, but if you still feel the way you did that night, even just a little bit...then let me make it up to you now.”

Louis’ resolve is crumbling. He can feel it in the way Louis’ eyes drop to his mouth as he thinks it over.

“If you hurt me again, Harry, I swear-”

“I won’t, Lou. You have my word,” he whispers before leaning in that final distance to connect their mouths.

Louis doesn’t relax against him like he did the night they fell asleep together. He pulls back just seconds later to threaten him some more, but Harry only hears half of it before pulling Louis into another kiss, holding him even closer this time. He doesn’t try to break away from him anymore. Now he’s clinging to Harry like he’s scared he might disappear.

He guides Louis to lie back down when he starts sliding off the edge of the mattress. Louis pulls him down until their bodies slot together and Harry’s weight is practically crushing him. Their first kiss lasted a matter of seconds before fear tore Harry out of Louis’ arms. He didn’t get to appreciate the taste of his lips and the feel of his tongue so he takes advantage now that Louis’ whole body is trying to curl around his.  

Louis’ breaths quicken and he makes a sound of desperation when Harry pulls back to move down his body. He drops kisses to every piece of exposed, tattooed skin he can find, focusing mostly on where his shirt is bunched up to his chest. His skin is sun kissed even in the middle of winter and Harry can’t keep his mouth off of it.

Sharp nails dig into his scalp when he bites down just below Louis’ navel and sucks a mark there. Louis tries to pulls him up when Harry pulls his joggers down to lick even lower to repeat the process. He’s met with blown eyes when he glances up near the pillows that only make Harry want to keep going.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, his fingers already waiting poised at the waistband of his joggers again. Harry can see him hard and already starting to strain against the fabric of them. He thinks back on all those times Louis would taunt him by walking around his house half-naked, driving Harry absolutely insane because all he’s ever wanted to do is touch. He just wouldn’t admit it.

Louis holds his gaze. Almost like he’s unsure if Harry is for real about wanting to do this. Slowly, he shakes his head. “Only if you want to,” he whispers.

“I don’t.” Harry crawls back up his body to kiss his mouth, absorbing the majority of the moan that Louis makes against his lips. “Everybody is right downstairs. You have to try to be quiet. You can’t be as loud as you were with that guy from California.” That guy who Harry still imagines murdering from time to time.

“I won’t be,” he blushes. “And I only slept with him to try and get over you. Also to try and make you jealous enough to actually give a shit,” he admits quietly. “I wanted you to care so much that I was with him and for you to say _something_ , but you just didn’t. It didn’t even work.” Harry was so jealous that night that he was sick to his stomach. Louis being with that man was the last thing he wanted but he couldn’t say that. Especially not after he straight up told Louis that they could never be together. “The whole time I was with him I wanted it to be you,” he says.

Just hearing Louis admit that he hated that night as much Harry did is enough for him to know that they’re finally on the same page. Harry wanted it to be him too, but the thought of saying it scared the shit out of him. At least now that they’re being honest they can get things right. This time, nobody has to get hurt.

Harry goes willingly when Louis pulls him back up to the head of the bed for a kiss that sends his heart racing even faster. He resumes untying Louis’ drawstring between them while their mouths are still connected. He pulls them down Louis’ thighs as soon as the knot tugs free and wraps a strong hand around him.

“W- What if somebody comes upstairs? What if they come in here?” he asks. Everybody in that living room knew exactly where Harry was headed. Gemma even joked that he wasn’t coming back. Nobody in their right mind would come up here looking for them unless they want to see something unseeable, but Harry gets up to lock the door anyway just in case.

He comes back to Louis on the bed and settles down between his legs. Louis watches him with irises darker than Harry’s ever seen them. Harry marvels at the deep blue of them until he slowly takes Louis into his mouth and his eyelids flutter closed at the touch. His fingers curl around chunks of his hair again, desperately holding on as Harry takes him all the way down.

“ _Fuck_ , this isn’t going to last long.”

Harry peeks up at Louis’ chest heaving and his forehead all crinkled like he could come any minute.

He slows down a bit when Louis’ thighs start shaking, dragging it out for his sake as much as Louis’. This is the first time that he’s ever touched Louis this way. He plans on reliving this moment for the rest of his days and there are certain details he wants engraved into his brain.

Louis tastes pretty much the same as any other person Harry’s ever blown, but his unique smell is mingled with it too in a way that makes Harry’s skin tingle. He has kept his promise with being quiet, but only because his teeth are buried so deep into the flesh of his bottom lip that no sounds can escape except for the occasional whine whenever when Harry swirls his tongue around his tip.

He feels Louis pushing at his head once Harry speeds up. “I’m close,” he warns. Harry digs his nails into Louis’ thigh to keep himself planted there and Louis lets out a stifled moan. “I’m going to come. Fuck, Haz. _Haz_ ,” he says, getting a little more desperate when Harry doesn’t move. His voice breaks on the last word and Harry happily swallows every drop that spills over his tongue.

Louis catches his breath up on the pillows with one arm thrown over his flushed face. Harry crawls up to the head of the bed to lie beside him. He pulls Louis’ arm away from his eyes and he’s just as captivated by the them now as he was ten minutes ago when they started.

“You know you didn’t have to do that, right? Christ, I can’t believe you just let me come in your mouth,” he says with a lazy grin. He runs his fingers over Harry’s mouth like he’s checking to make sure it’s real.

“I’m not exactly complaining over here,” Harry tells him. “I wanted you to.”

“Fuck _,_ I know,” he laughs. “I can’t believe that either. _Any_ of this really. I’ve been trying so hard to stop kidding myself that I could ever have you; that you could ever want me back and now…”

Louis sighs into the kiss Harry presses to his lips. “And now we have each other,” Harry tells him. “As friends, as more than that…as whatever we want.”

“I think it’s a little too late to play the friend card. That was over the second you put my dick in your mouth.”

“I don’t regret it. That’s perfectly fine with me,” Harry laughs. “We already tried being friends once anyway. Now, we’re moving onto bigger and better things.”

Louis smiles so big that his eyes don’t just crinkle, he closes them completely. He only opens them again after he’s done grinning like a fool.

“Watch it. If you keep talking like that I’ll have no choice but to write a new song about you.”

“I was under the impression that you started one already,” Harry smirks. He glances over Louis’ shoulder at the notebook he fell asleep with, more certain now than ever that the pages are full of words about him.

Louis’ cheeks redden from his accusation and Harry loves every second of it.

“Can I read a bit of it now? Haven’t I earned at least that much,” he pouts. Louis slaps his hand away when he pretends to reach for it, making Harry cackle when he tells him to fuck off. “So, you’re saying I _can’t_ read it yet, correct?” Harry checks.

“No. I’m saying it’s _not_ finished yet and who says it’s even about you, _conceited_.” That’s a fucking lie. Harry has no doubt that half the words on that page are about him. Louis knows it too, smirking and kissing Harry like he’s been aching to do so for ages. “God, you’re so annoying,” Louis mumbles.

“Then stop kissing me,” Harry laughs.

“Never.” Harry feels his stomach flip at the prospect of such a promise. It flips again when Louis crawls on top of him like he’s going to prove it to him right here and now.

Maybe he’ll get to read Louis’ notebook after Louis lets him come up for air.


	6. Chapter 6

They don’t stay in the guestroom forever even though Harry really wouldn’t have minded if they had. His family definitely realizes something’s different, but thankfully nobody says anything when he and Louis come down the stairs with matching grins that simply will not go away.

They come back down to the living room to rejoin the party, but it seems they’ve been gone for so long that the party is basically over. Liam and his parents leave once it starts getting late. Harry hasn’t had an opportunity to tell him that he and Louis worked things out but he must be able to feel the change in him because he wraps Harry in a tight embrace.

It’s going to be an early morning for almost everybody who’s left. Gemma and Nathan are heading out first thing in the morning, and Harry’s parents will be getting up around the same time to see them off. Harry’s holiday only lasts until tomorrow as well, but he’s under no obligation to rush back since technically he brought work home with him.

Harry offered to clean up after dinner since he hasn’t done much of that since he’s been home. He heads back upstairs after everyone else including Louis has already made the journey up there to start preparing for tomorrow.

Up in his room, Harry begins the very difficult task of locating everything he brought with him that’s currently strewn all over random pieces of furniture and the floor.

He’s saved from having to crawl under the bed to find the pair of socks he’s missing by a soft tapping at his door. Harry feels excitement rush through him just from the possibility of it being Louis on the other side.

He gets his wish and then some when he opens the door to find Louis shirtless and dripping wet with a dark towel sitting low on his hips.

Harry doesn’t even realize he’s staring at the droplets of water collecting below his navel until Louis ducks his chin to meet his eyes.

“Um, hey there,” he smiles, quietly laughing off the tension he’s created just from knocking on the bloody door.

Harry’s reply comes several beats too late and it’s mostly spoken to the droplets of water currently cascading down Louis’ shoulders and the faint indentions of his abs.

“…Hey.”

Louis grins to himself about something he must find extremely funny from the way his eyes crinkle in the corners. It’s probably the way Harry swallows hard just from looking at him.

“Hey,” he says again. “Um, so I know you’re probably really busy packing and all that since it’s so late, but you wouldn’t happen to have an extra razor, would you? I forgot mine and now it’s day three and I’m starting to get all scruffy.” He runs his fingers over the rough surface of his jawline and all Harry wants is to lick it.

Harry has barely heard a word he’s said and Louis can probably tell because he raises an amused eyebrow.

“So, is that a no or…?”

“I don’t have one,” he answers after thinking about all the places that he wouldn’t necessarily mind getting beard burn.

“Damn. You’re no help,” he chuckles. “I guess I could ask Nathan. Or your stepdad. He probably has tons of extras. Do you think he might be able to help me out if I ask him?”

Can his stepdad help him out dressed like _that_? Harry really fucking hopes not.

Harry reaches out to run his fingers over the words tattooed just beneath his collar bones. The water makes it look like he’s glistening and again Harry is hit with the sudden urge to lick his client’s skin. Louis blinks up at him through his eyelashes. He tries to bite down on the smirk he’s wearing, but that small movement just makes his stubbled jawline look even better.

“You want to go knocking on people’s doors in nothing but a towel?”

“Maybe. Why? Is that going to be a problem, _officer_?” He boldly takes one step back like he’s going to leave and Harry immediately grabs the front of his towel to snatch him back. He’s sure everyone in house just heard the loud peal of laughter that Louis let out.

“But I need to shave!” he protests as Harry pulls him into the room.

Harry leans down and kisses him just to shut him up. “I like you scruffy.”

*

The next morning for Harry is an experience unlike any other when he wakes up and knows that Louis is right beside him without even opening his eyes.

He grins, recognizing the new sweetness in the the air of his old bedroom as Louis’ scent mixed in with his shampoo.

Louis’ blue eyes are the first things Harry sees and they’re just as beautiful as they were the first time they ever woke up together. Harry remembers how fondly Louis had smiled at him that night and then bravely connected their lips as if they were always meant to be that way.

The little grin on his face now as he watches Harry blink himself awake this morning is similar, but almost cautious in a way. He lies still, one fist clenched tight where he’s using his arm as a pillow while the other is carefully poised in front of him like he wants to reach out and touch him but he’s unsure if he should.

His reaction is understandable. Especially after what happened before, so Harry makes the big move this time, greeting Louis with a soft good morning before kissing him so deliberately that there’s no way Louis can doubt what’s going on in his head.

He looks relieved when Harry pulls back, almost like he needed that from Harry to prove that nothing has changed for them overnight. It makes Harry feel awful to know that he’s the cause of that uncertainty. He plans to spend every day from now on fixing it.

“Hey,” Harry smiles, having fun noticing all the things that make morning-time Louis so soft and beautiful.

“Hey, Haz.” He blushes when he notices the path that Harry’s gaze is making around the features of his face.

“You ready to go back to your house?”

Louis gives a noncommittal shrug, looking like he’d be just fine staying right where he is.

“Yeah, I guess so. It’ll definitely be weird without you staying there anymore. I kind of got used to seeing your ugly mug every day,” he smirks.

Harry feels his forehead crinkle trying figure out what the hell Louis is talking about.

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I stay there?”

Now it’s Louis’ turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Uh, because you quit? Though, after what happened between us I can’t really blame you,” he says. “You told me that somebody else would replace you after Christmas. You said you weren’t coming back.”

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest. He forgot all about that. He reaches for his phone at lightening speed to call the only person who can undo what he did and convince his chief not to murder him in cold blood for being indecisive as fuck.

“Who are you calling?”

Liam answers the question for him when he comes over the speaker with a weary, “Why have I begun to associate you calling me with a headache?”

“I only take the time to call you when it’s important,” Harry insists. Kind of like right now.

“Uh-huh. Right,” he says. “So, what has Louis done this time?”

Harry sucks in a pained breath at the swift kick he gets under the covers coupled with an offended ‘You _complain_ about me?’

He tries to kiss Louis to make him forget that he just heard that, but he ends up with his lips pressed against the palm of his hand instead when Louis scoffs and pushes him away.

“Li, please stop talking and just listen,” Harry begs. “I need you to do something for me. The sooner the better, so preferably right now if you don’t mind?” he winces.

Harry sports a victorious grin when Liam sighs into the receiver in that way that says he’s already caved. “I’m going to start charging you for all the shit I do,” he threatens. Harry would gladly pay the fee so long as his best friend fixes the giant mess he made.

*

Liam calls him back a couple of hours later to announce that surprisingly, Mr. Cowell doesn’t actually give a shit who watches over Louis as long as somebody is. That person doesn’t have to necessarily be him, but Harry thinks it should be. If anybody is going to get the honor of protecting Louis, it should be the person who cares about him and would do anything to keep him safe even when he’s being a twat; which is a lot of the time.

Harry’s parents see them off around noon after Harry’s car is all packed up and his mother has threatened bodily harm if they don’t come back soon for another visit.

“You know that promise includes you too, right?” Harry checks as he turns the ignition of the car.

After the enormous impression that Louis made on his family, something tells Harry that showing up without him would not go very well.

“Yeah, I know. I kind of got the hint when your mum looked right at me while saying she’s not above manslaughter,” he grins. “I’d actually love to come back one day. Thanks again for bringing me here.” He slides his fingers into place over Harry’s hand where it’s resting on the middle console and lightly squeezes it. Harry can’t imagine what Christmas would’ve been like without him.

“No, Lou, thank you,” Harry brings his hand up to his lips to kiss it making Louis blush just like he did at breakfast this morning when Harry kissed him on the cheek in front of everybody. “We can come back whenever you want,” he promises. “I’ll miss everybody here while we’re away, but I don’t think I’ll have much time to be sad with you as my company.”

“How sweet,” Louis gushes. “Is that what you’ll think to yourself before or after you call Liam to tattle on me some more?” he grumbles.  

Harry fondly rolls his eyes. He’s already told Louis that was taken out of context. He has never called Liam _specifically_ to complain about him; that’s just the direction every conversation they have about Louis seems to go in.

“That depends. Do you plan to resume being a pain in the arse now that my family isn’t around to impress?” Harry smirks. Louis has been calm and docile for three whole days. All of that energy is probably just waiting to burst out of him at this point.

“All I can say is keep your phone handy because I make no promises,” Louis smirks.  

So, that would most likely be a _yes_. Harry breathes a laugh to himself because he’s actually looking forward to it.

The drive back to Louis’ place takes nearly three hours, but it’s time well spent with Louis in the passenger’s seat telling Harry where to stop off for food as well as monopolizing the music because he’s the musician in this operation and that apparently makes him the dj.

They grab their things out of the back of the car when they arrive and Harry leads the way to the house. He does the honors of unlocking the door so he can do a quick check of the house to make sure nobody is inside lurking around.

“It’s all clear,” Harry announces when he arrives back at the foyer after searching every room in house. “I mean, the house is completely fucking trashed from your party, but there’s no one hiding in the pantry or anything, so. All clear.”

“Thanks, Haz.”

“Of course. You’re more than welcome,” Harry assures him. Louis’ eyes follow him as he gathers his things and heads for the front door.

“Where are you off to?” he asks.

“To drop off all my stuff. I have a lot of unpacking to do since I’m not going anywhere.” Harry packed up every piece of clothing he owns to take with him to his parent’s house thinking he wouldn’t be coming back here. He had planned to take his things back to his flat after the holidays, but clearly the situation has changed. Clearly, it’s changed in more ways than one Harry realizes when Louis nervously clears his throat.

“You could just take it up to my room,” he suggests. “Only if you want to of course. I’m not saying you do or anything. I’m just I’m saying that you can. If you want,” he reiterates. He tacks on a quick, ‘ _no pressure_ ’ as a disclaimer, but Harry doesn’t feel pressured at all, mostly he just feels his heart warming because Louis looks so cute trying to pretend like he doesn’t care what Harry says.

“Do _you_ want me to?” Harry asks.

“Maybe,” Louis shrugs. “Kind of. I mean, I think it makes the most sense, but like I said it’s totally up to you. I know we’ve technically been living together this whole time if you think about it but like, I’ve never shared a room with anybody before so I’m likely to drive you up a wall,” he laughs to himself. “Actually, knowing that, the pool house might still be the best option here.”

It’s not. Harry’s never shared a room before either, but he wouldn’t mind trying it out with Louis. The furthest he’s ever gotten with this was a boyfriend from three years ago who let him keep a toothbrush in the same holder as his.

“We may not survive it, but I’d be honored to be your first official roommate.”

“Yeah?” Louis grins. “You don’t think it’s a dumb idea?”

“Nope. Not at all,” Harry shakes his head. “And if this does turn out to be a disaster and you really do drive me up a wall I’ll just murder you in your sleep and blame it on your kidnapper. Problem solved,” he smirks.

Louis just stares at him until Harry can’t take it and bursts out laughing at his face.

“I’m going to tell Liam you said that shit,” he says as he starts towards the stairs.

“Look who’s tattling now,” Harry snorts as he follows behind him.

Harry has only visited Louis’ room a few times, all of which were work related so he’s never paid much attention to details. The space is enormous much like the rest of the house, but it feels like a tiny box when he steps inside with Louis and all of his belongings neatly tucked inside of it.

He moves to immediately start making space for him, scooping handfuls of clothes out of drawers and sliding hangars to one side so Harry’s things will fit too.

“I uh, I can get rid of some stuff if I need to or just move it somewhere else. Like I said I’ve never shared a room before so my shit’s everywhere. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry assures him. “I don’t have a lot of stuff anyway, so this is perfect.”

He begins with the first drawer that was cleared out for him while Louis unpacks all of his dirty clothes and throws them in the laundry pile against the wall. When Harry turns around from putting away some of his shirts Louis is sitting at the foot of the bed. He’s watching Harry with this look that he can’t quite place.

“What’s wrong?”

He breathes a laugh to himself and shakes his head, still watching Harry like he’s some kind of mirage.

“The last time I was in here I cried myself to sleep thinking you’d be gone the next day and I’d never see you again.” He’s talking about the night of his birthday when he left his own party to come hide out in here instead. Harry had wondered what he was doing in here all by himself; if he was okay. Obviously, he was far from it. “I thought I fucked it all up...”

“And now I’m plotting to slowly take over both of your walk-in closets and leave no room for your stuff on the bathroom sink because my hair products are more important,” Harry teases.

Louis cracks a smile; the good kind that makes his eyes crinkle and Harry’s stomach swoop.

“I’m really glad you’re still here,” he whispers when Harry comes to sit down beside him and holds his hands.

“Me too,” Harry says before lifting Louis’ chin to connect their lips. If being here in this room is a reminder of all the awful things he and Louis did to each other, then he wants to change that. He wants to make a new memory so that the next time Louis’ sitting here alone on his bed he can think about this moment instead.

*

The next morning feels like a dream when Harry wakes up in a room that still feels unfamiliar even though he slept in it all night. Louis is still asleep with his back turned to him and Harry spends a few selfish minutes just watching him breathe. He used to fight a constant war in his head over the kind of thoughts he’d have just from looking at him but now that he’s given into them, it’s like he can’t stop; constantly amazed by everything he does even when he’s not doing anything at all.  

He presses a kiss to Louis’ shoulder before he leaves the bed to quietly brush his teeth. He changes into a pair of shorts and grabs his phone, earbuds, and shoes before tiptoeing out the door. He shuts it gently, stealing just one more glance at the bed and the beautiful person sleeping in it before the latch clicks.

Harry makes his way down the stairs and through the house that is now spotless thanks to him and Louis cleaning all day yesterday. He heads out the front door and hangs a right, entering the pool house for the first time since he packed all of his stuff up thinking it was one of the last times he’d be there. He left a few things behind though; his punching bag and gloves to name a few which haven’t been put to good use in a while since he’s been away.

He wraps his hands before putting in his earbuds and hitting shuffle on his gym playlist. As soon as he straps on his gloves he goes for a couple of crosses and jabs and even a roundhouse kick just for fun because it’s been so long. Leaving a warm bed with Louis sleeping next to him was hard, but he thinks it was a just sacrifice if he left his side to come do something he loves.

It’s past noon and he’s been at it for over an hour when Harry feels a pair of eyes on him from the door. He turns to face it and suddenly feels self-conscious with Louis leaning against the threshold and blatantly staring.

“Oh, don’t stop because of me,” Louis says when Harry removes one glove to pause his music. “I’m just watching.”

That’s kind of why Harry stopped. He’s not used to having an audience. Any other time that Louis has wondered in while Harry’s working out, he says whatever he needs to say and then leaves to continue writing or being a pain in the arse or whatever it is Louis does when Harry’s not with him.

“You don’t mind if I finish up?” Harry asks, certain that if Louis walked all the way here there must be something he needs. He’s certainly looking him over like there is.

“I don’t mind at all.”

Harry still feels a little strange about being in the same room with Louis and essentially ignoring him, but he seems fine with it so Harry gloves up again and resumes beating the shit out of his bag. He tries to tune Louis out, but it’s hard knowing that he’s standing right behind him watching his every move.

He comes into view again each time Harry steps around his bag. He feels goosebumps rise up on his arms beneath all of his sweat from how raptly Louis’ eyes follow him. Every punch he throws lands a little off center after Louis’ seen enough and pushes away from the door to come closer.

Harry gives up trying to focus entirely when Louis steps up to him and reaches into the pocket of his shorts to pause his music again. He removes Harry’s earbuds and places the phone down on the floor. Harry sucks in a shuddery breath when Louis stands back up to run his fingers over his tattoos, slick with sweat.

“Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to touch you every time I found you in here like this?”

Harry hasn’t a clue, but clearly the answer is a lot since Louis has now started touching more than just the two swallows beneath his collar bones. His fingers move downward to trace over the butterfly below his chest and then even lower to admire the set of laurels poking out from the waistband of his shorts. His breath is already bated as Louis unapologetically feels him up. It cuts out altogether when Louis drops to his knees in front of him without another word.

“I-I just worked out. I didn’t even finish,” Harry manages to say after Louis unties his drawstring and lets his shorts pool at his feet.

“So? I just woke up. Who cares?” he shrugs. “And trust me, you’ll finish.”

He flashes Harry a wicked grin before circling his tongue around his tip. Louis hollows his throat and sucks him down causing Harry to forget why he even tried to talk Louis out of something so magnificent.

Harry hangs his head back as he blindly unstraps his gloves and lets them fall to the floor along with the rest of his things. He grips his wrapped hands into Louis’ sleep mussed hair and lets out a slow breath to match the pace of Louis’ thoughtful movements.

“That feels so good,” Harry sighs, feeling the pit of his stomach burn when Louis blinks up at him through his lashes.

Louis holds his gaze the whole time he’s bringing him off. The warmth of his mouth and the dark color of his eyes are almost too much for Harry to process all at once as he feels himself being pulled closer to the edge. Louis’ eyelids flutter closed when Harry comes and it’s all Harry can do to keep his legs from collapsing under him as he swallows it all.

He pulls Louis up from the floor after they both catch their breath and he tastes himself on his tongue.

“Wait, where are you going?” Harry asks when Louis pulls away after a few seconds of Harry trying to undo his drawstring as well. Louis grins at his desperate tone, running a hand through his messy hair even though it doesn’t make a bit of difference. The pillow and Harry’s hands have just killed any chance of it lying flat.

“I’m flattered and I’d love to stay, but-”

“Then stay.” Harry tries to sway him by getting him undressed, but he just laughs and kisses him on the cheek.

“You wanted to finish working out and frankly, I want breakfast.”

“It’s past noon,” Harry points out.

Louis rolls his eyes, retracing the couple of steps he took away from Harry to press a lingering kiss to his lips. “We’ve been over this before, love. Breakfast is whenever I roll out of bed. The time of day it occurs is completely irrelevant,” he smirks.

*

Louis made so much noontime breakfast for them that there’s still a huge portion of it left for later that night when they’re hungry again. They eat leftover breakfast for dinner after spending the entire day being lazy and it feels amazing doing all of those things with Louis.

They actually eat at the kitchen table like civilized people rather than pigging out upstairs on the sofa like they used to. They save the sofa for after dinner when they lie down side by side paying more attention to each other than the movie playing on the big screen.

“What are you smiling so hard about over there?” Harry asks. He’s almost afraid to hear the answer knowing it must be something he’s unknowingly done.

“Oh, I was just thinking about you and your face the last time we were lying down just like this,” he laughs. Harry knew Louis was probably laughing at him. “It was when I kissed you. Your eyes were bigger than fucking saucers, mate.”

“You _surprised_ me,” Harry says in his own defense.

“You were hilarious. Well, you know, _before_ you were a right dick,” he teases.

Harry sighs, temporarily burying his face in the throw pillow they’re sharing. “You’re never gonna let me live that one down are you?” he asks.

“Nope. Never,” Louis smirks. “I pretty much plan to hold that night over your head for all time.”

Harry doesn’t doubt it.

“Can’t I at least have a redo? I feel like it’s only fair since you plan to torture me about it for the next twenty centuries.”

Louis smiles to himself as his palm slides up his chest. “You can have as many as you’d like.”

Harry hears Louis’ breath catch when their lips meet, his fingers hooked into Harry’s shirt to make sure he doesn’t go too far. His hands move to his arms while Louis shifts them so he’s on top and the feeling of being pinned down by him is as much of a rush as it was when they were lying in his parent’s entryway, cackling like mad because they were soaking wet from the snow.

They could’ve had this weeks ago if Harry hadn’t been so afraid. Had he just surrendered to what his heart truly wanted rather than trying to control who he fell for they could’ve been this happy the whole time.

The pace of the evening picks up once Harry’s hands start traveling down Louis’ waist, becoming transfixed on his hips and way his bum fits perfectly in his grasp. Every slide of Louis’ tongue and deep roll of his hips against him is like another match added to the flame that’s already building. The intensity of it drives Harry to sit up once he can’t take it anymore. Louis’ breath catches in his throat again with a low _fuck_ mumbled into Harry’s mouth when he stands up and starts towards Louis’ bedroom with his legs still wrapped tight around him.

They push through the bedroom door and Harry gently places him on the bed. He’s on top now, but Louis’ still clinging to him like even an inch of space between them would be too much.

Harry gets him out of his shirt, but Louis wiggles out of his joggers all on his own, lying perfectly still afterwards so Harry can run his tongue along his tip and suck him down. He looks so good; just as he did the night Harry pinned him down like this on his old bed at home. Then, Louis took care to be quiet since they were in a house full of people, not like now with the soft whines he lets out each time Harry hollows his cheeks around him.

His taste is becoming so familiar now having done this so many times that he gets lost chasing the heat of it, only slowing down when Louis chokes out that he doesn’t want to come yet. Harry regretfully pulls back and Louis blinks up at the ceiling with blown eyes like he was just on the edge when he had the presence of mind to stop him.

“Are we all done?”

“ _Fuck no_ ,” he laughs breathlessly. “In the drawer. Get the lube.”

Harry meets his eyes to see if he’s really serious and he’s met with an expectant eyebrow because Harry still hasn’t fucking moved.

Harry searches through the drawer that he’s never opened before in his life and quickly riffles through everything in it. He sees Louis watching him out of the corner of his eyes, grinning because Harry has never moved faster than just now when he hopped off the bed.

“You could help me, you know. This is your junk drawer,” Harry mutters, digging through all the shit that’s accumulated inside of it since Louis’ lived here.

“Not anymore. It’s half yours now,” he laughs.

Like hell it is. “All of the annoying parts of the room belong to you _\- Oh!_ ” Harry nearly chokes on the last word when he finds the bottle of lube crammed in the back of the drawer lying on top of a roll of condoms. “I found them,” Harry announces.

He turns and momentarily gets distracted by Louis slowly stroking himself to pass the time they’re currently wasting.

“Good,” Louis congratulates him. “Now come back over here so we can use them.”

Harry usually hates people ordering him around, but the way Louis does it just makes Harry want him more.

He settles down between Louis’ legs, lets out a slow breath to keep himself in check, and begins to quickly work him open. He isn’t nervous like he thought he’d be. The energy thrumming through him is much more similar to an adrenaline rush each time Louis makes a new sound of approval under his influence.

Harry’s pulse speeds up when Louis claims he’s ready after only a couple of minutes. Louis never really shuts up or takes anything seriously, but he’s quiet, just focusing on breathing while Harry rolls on the condom and lines himself up.

Louis pulls him down for a quick kiss before Harry pushes in, holding Louis’ hips still beneath him. The room is quiet except for a pair of gasps and then Louis finally begging him to move. The tight pressure is all Harry feels even with sharp nails digging into his back and shoulders.

Being inside of Louis is one of the best things he’s ever felt. Harry’s kind of upset with himself for prolonging this moment so long. Louis feels amazing, but he looks and sounds even better moving with Harry to meet his thrusts. He can feel how hard Louis is between them, already leaking onto their stomachs like he’s close.

“Don’t stop. Please,” Louis chokes out when Harry starts to ease up on him so he can catch his breath. Louis digs his heels into the backs of Harry’s thighs and just clings to him harder. “Don’t stop,” he whispers sending electricity down his spine when he says it again right next to Harry’s ear. He wonders if he’s being too rough when he snaps his hips into him, but he just lets out a low moan and begs Harry to do it again.

Harry’s using everything he has to go as deep as Louis’ body will let him and he’s drowning in him. He hasn’t slept with anybody in months. Most of that time was spent here in this house, pretending he didn’t want his client so Harry’s barely keeping it together himself trying to give them both what they need.

He had been doing okay with pacing himself but now Louis keeps whispering that he’s going to come over and over again and he can’t hold off anymore. He tells Louis when he’s close and all he can do is frantically nod his head.

“Me too,” he croaks out like he’s been trying his best to hang on and wait for him.

He moans and tenses up around Harry when he comes between them after a few more thrusts, dragging Harry right along with him as his muscles tremble with aftershocks.

Harry kisses the lazy little grin on Louis’ lips and then crashes on top of him.

“Just smother me. It’s not like I need to breathe or anything,” he pants. He still sounds incredibly winded so Harry rolls off of him onto his side so he can catch his breath.

It takes a few minutes, but Louis recuperates first and even finds the energy to clean up after them. Harry just lays there, too tired and blissful to move.

 

“Oi. You’re falling asleep on me,” Louis chuckles later that night, tugging on another a lock of Harry’s hair to make sure he stays awake with him. “You’re a cop. Aren’t you supposed to have like, super stamina or something? I’m not really seeing it,” he says disappointedly.

“Hey,” Harry frowns down at himself. “I’m in very good shape.”

“Yes, you are,” Louis quickly agrees. “You can even pick me up and everything. That was finally proven tonight.”

“Glad I finally did something amazing enough to impress you other than keeping you safe from your crazy would-be abductor,” he snorts.

Louis grins as he cards through Harry’s hair, much gentler this time now that he knows he isn’t falling asleep yet. He hasn’t stopped looking so content and happy since Harry kissed him at Christmas. Everything since then has been one unbelievable moment followed by another. Harry’s not sure how long that kind of momentum can last, but he hopes it’s forever.

“What are your plans for New Year’s?” he asks. “What do you usually do?”

“I don’t know.” Louis shrugs almost like he hadn’t given the holiday any thought at all even though it’s quickly approaching. “What about you? What are your plans?”

“Kissing you under the mistletoe or the giant magical clock or whatever you’re supposed to do at twelve. I’ve never had a midnight kiss so I’m not sure about the rules.”

“I don’t think there are any. You just find somebody and kiss them to start off your year. No magical clocks necessary.”

“Noted. Well, I want it to be you either way,” Harry insists. “No matter what we kiss under.”

Louis grins and agrees, but doesn’t say anything more about it. He keeps playing with Harry’s hair, lost in thought somewhere Harry can’t see.

“Did you used to spend New Years with your mum and dad?” Harry asks after a long silence stretches between them, recognizing the way Louis goes so quiet when he’s thinking about the past, mostly when he’s thinking about his mother.

“Yeah. Kind of…we spent it with lots of people actually; hundreds,” he smiles.

“You were all massive party types then?” Harry smiles because he can see that. His own family has always been pretty boring in that respect. They spent the holiday together, but Louis’ family comes from another world.

“Yeah, we were, but probably not the kind you’re thinking. My mum used to throw this huge charity ball every year, so New Year’s was always really busy. It was such a big deal for such a long time and then she died and it just wasn’t anymore.”

His grin fades, and Harry immediately misses it. He hates that. He hates hearing about all of these wonderful things that Louis’ mother did and said, knowing that he’ll never get to meet her. He has wanted to so many times over the past few months. He wishes he could tell her how much Louis loves her and misses her. He wonders if she knows the kind of man that she raised Louis to be because Harry is amazed by him every single day.

“She raised money for so many families...she did all of these great things,” Louis says.

“Those things don’t have to stop just because she’s gone, Lou. Everything she did can live on through you and it sounds like what she did helped a lot of people. You could do that too.”

“I can’t host a charity ball, Haz. One, I don’t know anything about events like that except maybe attending them, and two, it’s too late. New Year’s Eve is in three days.” He glances at the clock and sees that it’s fifteen minutes past midnight. “ _Two_ days,” he corrects himself.

Harry can’t deny that there are some technical issues here, but it’s not impossible. Not if it’s something Louis really wants.

“Okay, fine. I’ll admit two days isn’t very realistic, but it’ll be your ball, Lou. Have it whenever you want. And if anybody can pull off throwing a random massive party that people actually show up to, it’s you. I told you I was leaving and you had it looking like a rave in here within hours,” he says. “Imagine if you actually had time to plan something like a charity ball. You’d smash it.”

Louis has been staring at Harry like he’s insane, but the look in his eyes is more serious now, almost like he’s giving the idea serious thought.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he says with complete confidence.  

Louis rolls his eyes a second later, doubt already creeping back in.

“I’d love to, but I wouldn’t even know where to start. I always helped her with small things after the ball was pretty much already put together. I never paid attention to _how_ it got that way. I never asked either.”

“You never knew how she did it, but I bet your dad does. Maybe you could ask him.”

Louis goes back to looking at him like he’s crazy. “No,” he shakes his head. “He wouldn’t be interested in any of this. Anything to do with her usually sends him running in the opposite direction. Sometimes, even me.”

“You thought he wouldn’t want to help you with your career at one time, but he was happy to sign you to his label. You said he had no interest in having a relationship with you, but you finally gave him a chance to prove you wrong and he did. He just might surprise you this time too,” Harry shrugs. “It’s probably worth a try.”

Harry has learned to take things very carefully and very slowly when it come to Louis and his father. Just planting the idea in Louis’ head and giving him a gentle push in the right direction is a lot better than making him feel like he _has_ to do something.

“I’ll think about it,” he says after a while. “All of it. Like you said, it doesn’t have to happen tomorrow. There’s no rush,” he echoes.

“There isn’t,” he agrees. “Have the ball in ten days or wait ten years, love. You can do whatever you like.”

“Right now I kind of just want to go to sleep,” he says with a tired grin. “Is that okay?” It’s more than okay. Harry has been fighting sleep for over an hour, but Louis refused to let him drift off because he wasn’t ready to call it a night.

He opens his arms for Louis to curl into them and then pulls the covers up over their arms. Louis said he wanted to sleep, but Harry still worries when he goes quiet and still in his embrace.

“I didn’t mean to pry or upset you,” Harry whispers when he starts feeling like maybe he should’ve brought his family up another time. It’s usually a painful subject. It could’ve waited.

“No, Haz. You didn’t,” Louis assures him. “I’m actually glad we talked about New Years. I haven’t in a long time,” he yawns.

“And no pressure, by the way,” Harry says. “I only suggested you doing the charity ball because it sounds like something you’d love. Just ignore me if it isn’t.”

“I could never ignore you,” Louis tells him.

*

Louis had agreed rather quickly with Harry when he said there was no rush with this thing, but Harry wakes up the next morning and suddenly the rush is on because he’s decided to do it.

“What are you doing in here?” Harry stumbles into the study, a place he’s never seen Louis hang out in before because most of the stuff inside of it belongs to his dad. Louis grins over his laptop at him, laughing a bit because he’s still naked and Louis isn’t.  He puts one finger up over his lips, and Harry frowns wondering why they need to be so quiet.

“What are you doing?” Harry tries to walk over to him, but he violently shakes his head and widens his eyes as a deep voice comes through the speakers of his laptop. It only takes a second for Harry to recognize the voice as Mr. Tomlinson’s and also that he should probably not walk behind the desk to kiss Louis since he’s stark naked.

“Er- Dad, Harry’s just walked in so I’m going to go, but I’ll call again later. Maybe tonight?” he asks.

His father says to tell Harry hi from him and that he’ll make sure to answer whenever Louis has more time to chat.

“That was your dad,” Harry says dumbly as Louis closes his laptop. “On video chat?” he laughs. He’s glad he didn’t run over to him like he’d originally planned. His poor father would’ve been blinded.

“Yeah, I know. It was. He wants to help,” Louis says incredulously. “I called him this morning just to see what he thought about what you said and before I knew it he was helping me dig through the study to find all of my mum’s contacts and vendors she used to organize this every year. He even offered to come by if I couldn’t find everything I needed.” He sounds so surprised by his father’s reaction, but also excited. Harry’s chest immediately blooms with happiness, pride, and admiration for him.

“So, when’s the big day going to be? Have you decided yet?”

“January thirtieth. Their anniversary. I know it’s not New Years Eve, but it’s as close as I can get it and still have time to plan so it isn’t a complete failure,” he mutters. “What do you think?”

Harry’s surprised he even needs his advice at this point. He’s clearly in his element here and has everything under control.

“I think that’s a fantastic idea, Louis, and I can’t believe you’re really doing it. I’m so proud of you,” he says before walking over to kiss him in a mixture of congratulations and good morning that makes Louis’ eyes crinkle up in amusement. Mostly because Harry’s making him blush, partly because he’s still nude.

“And I want to help too,” Harry tells him. “Whatever you need. Just say the word.”

“Oh, I will,” Louis promises. “You’ll be so busy getting bossed around that you’re probably going to regret saying that.”

Never.


	7. Chapter 7

So, Louis was right and Harry does kind of regret offering his services and giving Louis permission to make him his personal assistant and _slave_ , but only a very tiny bit. He usually only starts regretting it early in the mornings when he’s trying to sleep and Louis won’t let him, or when they’re in bed at night and nobody is kissing or touching anybody because it seems Louis is now in a very serious relationship with his laptop and they simply cannot be disturbed. Harry would much rather hear Louis passionately moaning his name every night instead of groaning about place settings and the fact that he can’t stick to a budget to save his life, but Harry lies right there beside him anyway. Because even though Louis has been going nonstop ever since he decided to dive headfirst into this, Harry doesn’t really mind his perfectionistic neuroticism. He finds it quite adorable actually.

When this whole thing started, New Year’s Eve was only two days away but Louis had already done so much ground work in preparation of the ball that he might as well have had it on December thirty-first anyway. Harry had to pry Louis away from the study that night just to be sure he didn’t spend all of midnight digging through old receipts and vendor contracts. He led Louis to their bedroom and closed the door behind them so Louis couldn’t escape back to the land of event planning.

“It’s not even midnight yet,” Louis had pointed out through a grin when Harry pushed him to lie back on the bed. “We still have two whole hours.”

And they spent every minute of them wrapped up in each other, their sweaty bodies and tender lips already pressed tight together when the clock struck twelve.

January rushes in and Louis has to start dividing his precious time between charity ball business and regular business because he’s still got an album coming out in the spring and it’s still only half finished.

Harry sits in on label meetings and recording sessions sometimes in the morning other times late at night because that’s the only other time Louis can make it to the studio after running charity ball errands all day. He’s spread pretty thin trying to hold everything together and keep it all on track, but thankfully, he’s surrounded by people who are all rooting for him so he gets tons of help along the way.

Louis’ mother seems to have been just as wonderful of a person as her son is because everybody he asks to help in his effort agrees wholeheartedly. Louis had feared his event would be a failure because in his mind people continued to show up to the charity balls each year out of respect and love for Jay. Their loyalty hasn’t diminished at all, nor has their love because people have showered so much of it upon her amazing son whose only wish is to pick up where she left off.

The media finds out that Louis is taking on such a huge project from the long guest list he’s compiled that features people and families from his star-studded world as well as other families who want to come show their support and gratitude because the Tomlinsons helped change their lives years ago.

People started donating money the moment they heard about the revival of the annual ball. Louis’ already halfway to his goal by the time January ends and the thirtieth has arrived. Instead of celebrating the fact that he’s raised so much without even having to host a thing yet, he does what only Louis Tomlinson would do the night of his very first charity ball and sets the bar even higher.

“I shouldn’t have raised the goal. What if nobody comes?”

Harry fondly rolls his eyes where he’s lying on the bed. He props himself up on his side, finding Louis leaned into the mirror like he has been for the last fifteen minutes regardless of the fact that he looks flawless.

“Literally every person you invited swore to be there. You have an entire box full of RSVPs in the study,” Harry laughs.

“I know, but that doesn’t _mean_ anything. People lie and say things they don’t mean all the time. I do it almost every night when I threaten to knee you in the balls after you start snoring in my ear.”

“Yeah, except you _do_ actually do that,” Harry points out. He doesn’t mention the fact that it fucking hurts too. “They’ll be there, Louis,” he says, grinning at the worried little crinkle between Louis’ eyebrows when he turns around.

“You think so?”

“I know so. This night is going to be amazing even if we’re the only two people who show up. That won’t happen of course. People are probably there already.”

“I sure hope so because that is a lot of food we’d have to eat. That’s also a shit ton of champagne we’d have to drink and something tells me you’re a lightweight,” he grins.

Louis leaves the mirror to come lie down beside him, releasing a deep breath aimed at the ceiling when Harry links their fingers together.

“I know it’s silly,” he says quietly, “But I think I want this night to go well for her sake even more than mine.”

Harry doesn’t have to ask who he’s talking about or who he’s thinking about as he looks up.

“She’s so proud of you already, Louis. There’s no way she couldn’t be.” He lifts Louis’ hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. Harry’s stomach takes a leap when Louis moves onto his side to connect their lips.

They sigh and part at the sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs. Harry is able to sneak in a few kisses to Louis’ clean-shaven jawline.

“Your dad’s here,” Harry says when Louis doesn’t immediately get up to go let him in.

He’s been worried about the charity ball going well tonight but he’s been nervous about his father’s role in it as well.

“Go answer the door,” Harry laughs. “He’s probably freezing out there.”

Louis curls himself further into Harry’s arms and hides his face in his neck. “Don’t you want to do it instead?” he mumbles.

“Lou, you have nothing to be nervous about. He’s your dad.” Granted Louis and his father have just started figuring out how to fit into each other’s lives again and Mr. Tomlinson hasn’t set foot inside of this house in years, Louis’ still his son and he still showed up at seven o’clock on the dot to come show his support and his love.

“I know that, but I won’t know what to say. I need another few minutes. Come on, Haz. Please?”

The doorbell rings again and Louis looks at him with those big blue eyes that instantly make Harry cave. Louis isn’t afraid of anything, but if all he needs is time to sort himself out then Harry will do what he can to help.  

“I’m giving you exactly five minutes and not a second more,” Harry warns.

Louis kisses him and thanks him about a dozen times before he gets off the bed and then a dozen more as he leaves the room. Harry heads down the stairs now feeling a little nervous himself as he approaches the front door. He may not have a strained relationship with Mr. Tomlinson, but he does have a fairly new relationship with his son and that’s not at all what he was hired for.

Harry pulls open the door, wondering if it feels as weird on that side of it as it does on Harry’s when he stands back to welcome the man into his own house. Come to think of it, this awkward moment is probably why Louis didn’t want to come down here himself. Suddenly, Harry doesn’t blame him for chickening out.

“Hello, Harry. You’re looking quite sharp,” Mr. Tomlinson comments when he steps in and claps Harry’s shoulder in greeting. Harry clears his throat when his cheeks heat up because Louis has been trying to tell him how good he looks for the past two hours he’s been in this suit.

“Er- Thank you, sir. You look great too.”

Mr. Tomlinson shrugs, sticking his hands in his front pockets; a move that Louis often defaults to as well when he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. It’s nice to finally know where he got it.

“Um, so Louis’ just finishing up upstairs. He should be down here any minute,” Harry explains to fill the weird silence that forms as Mr. Tomlinson looks around the interior of the house that he and his late wife bought over twenty years ago.

“That’s fine. This is his big night, so we’re all at his command I guess,” Mr. Tomlinson grins. “How is he by the way? How’s he doing?”

Harry blinks at his question, a little surprised that Louis’ father would trust his insight over that of someone else like a close friend or another family member.

“Uh, he’s good, sir. Great,” Harry corrects himself after thinking on it some more. “He’s a little nervous for tonight, but I think that’s to be expected with something like this,” Harry shrugs.

His father nods at his good report, seemingly glad to hear it.

“And… is he happy?” he asks meeting Harry’s eyes with his pale blue ones. He looks so much like Louis. “It seems like he is,” his father continues. “He’s different lately.” In some ways he is, Harry guesses, but he’d like to think that the small changes in Louis’ life have been positive just like the small changes in his own life; they led them to each other after all.

“He’s very happy most days,” Harry relays with confidence. “I think sometimes it’s really hard for him without her here, but luckily he still has you.”

“And _you_ ,” Mr. Tomlinson grins. “You’ve been there for him more than anyone else lately including me. I thanked you for looking after him, but I never thanked you for everything else you’ve done.”

Harry doesn’t feel like he’s done anything to deserve his thanks especially not after the way he fucked things up in the past, but maybe he does. Mr. Tomlinson sure seems to think so.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Louis comes down stairs a few seconds later, hiding his nerves behind a little smile when he sees Harry and his father standing in the foyer. He says hello to him and it feels just like any other time Harry has witnessed the two of them interact except tonight Louis steps forward and wraps his father in an unexpected embrace. He hears Louis thank him for being there and his father whisper that he wouldn’t miss it for the world before they part.

When it’s time to leave, Mr. Tomlinson walks just ahead of them towards the car idling in the drive. Louis double checks to make sure he has everything he needs and busies himself with locking his front door. Harry interrupts him for a quick kiss, stilling Louis’ hands with his own, hoping Louis can feel how incredibly proud he is of him tonight already.

*

The outside of the venue is packed with people when they arrive half an hour later. Harry’s eyes quickly scope out the fastest and easiest route through the crowds and into the building.

He’s wearing two hats tonight; supportive boyfriend as well as protective operant. Both are equally important to him which is why Harry rolls his eyes when Louis insists that he relax and stop mentally profiling all of his guests. It’s Harry’s job to be suspicious of everyone who wants to come up to Louis and just start chatting, however, he is hosting this huge event tonight so random people demanding his attention is kind of a given. He tries to take Louis’ advice and chill; _tries_ being the key word there.

The interior of the banquet hall looks like the pages of a fairy tale book when they finally make it inside. Louis’ been working on this for weeks, paying so much attention to tiny details that Harry thought he was losing his mind. The end result makes it’s obvious that his boyfriend wasn’t crazy at all. Clearly he’s actually a genius because the ballroom looks like a dream.

“It’s beautiful,” Harry tells him. “You did such a great job. You were worried for nothing. Everything turned out to look incredible.”

“ _And_ people actually showed up,” he smiles, looking around the room like he really thought they wouldn’t.

“Of course they did. Everyone here tonight is so proud and they love you so much.”

“Yeah? Including you?” he smirks as he softly runs his fingers over the lapels of Harry’s jacket that he’s been eyeing all night.

“ _Especially_ me,” Harry whispers. Harry leans down to chastely kiss him on the cheek but Louis turns his head at the last second. Their lips connect just the way he had been longing for when he went for his cheek instead.

Their kiss is interrupted when Mr. Tomlinson clears his throat behind them to let Louis know that it’s time to kick things off.

“Promise to tackle anybody who boos me?”

Harry snorts at the image. “No one is going to boo you, but, yes. In the event that someone’s being a dick I’ll take them out,” Harry promises.

“My hero,” he grins.

Harry watches them walk away as a pair wishing Louis didn’t have to run off so soon, but he’s only going up to the stage for a few minutes. He feels strange standing on the edge of the room without Louis right next to him so he finds his best friend. Harry spots him at a table near the center of the room and sits down in the empty chair beside him.

“Li! You came,” Harry exclaims only for Liam to fondly roll his eyes.

“Of course I did. You only handed me my invitation in person and then annoyed the shit out of me about it every day for a month.”

“You say annoyed, but I just call that steady stream of calls and texts _gentle_ reminders.”

“I’d hate to see what your hard ones look like,” Liam scoffs. “ _Don’t_ ,” he warns when Harry smiles at his mistake. “I’ll just want to slap you and this is a formal event.”

Harry was so going to take that opportunity and run with it, but Louis isn’t here to laugh at his dick jokes at the moment anyway so he resigns to save them for later when Louis can make some too.

Mr. Tomlinson’s voice comes over the speakers grabbing everyone’s attention in the room including Harry’s. Every pair of eyes is fixated on him as he welcomes them all to a special event that is years overdue and then introduces his son as the man responsible for bringing it back.

Louis beams under his father’s praise and all the applause filling the room. He bravely steps up to the mic and speaks about all the ways that this charity ball has helped better the lives of less fortunate families for years and how that was all thanks to his mother and her big heart. He dedicates the night to her and individually thanks everyone who helped make tonight a reality by showing their support. He saves Harry for last. He points Harry out to the crowd making warmth flood through his chest when Louis attributes him as the reason he had the courage to do something like this in first place.

“You two really are something,” Liam says over the new round of applause that breaks out when Louis’ speech ends. Harry claps for his boyfriend louder than anyone else, trying his best to ignore Liam’s teasing as well as his own dopey grin because the two of them really have become something great.

People converge on Louis, the bright star of night, as soon as he steps down from the stage to rejoin them. Everybody wants to congratulate him at every turn and tell him how happy his mother would be to see the amazing man that he is. Harry stands off to side, watching him soak it all in until his smile is so big that it takes over his entire face.

Harry steals him away after so much time has passed that he feels like he might combust if he doesn’t get to talk to him right this second.

Harry guides them away from the party to the coat room near the front entrance for a slow kiss that has Louis pushing up on his toes to deepen it as soon as their lips touch.

There’s no one back here at the moment but the two of them which only sends Harry’s heart racing more when Louis untucks his shirt to run his palms beneath it against his skin. Eager fingers work to undo the button of his slacks as Louis sucks marks into the side of his neck that are going to be completely obvious in a few minutes, but he’s not complaining.

Harry leans his head back against the wall when Louis bends to kiss down his chest, his dick twitching the faster and lower he moves. Louis braces his hands on either side of his hips and it feels like he just missed a whole flight of steps going down when Louis removes them at the sound of the door opening right next to them and Niall poking his head into the dimly lit room.

He makes a face when he realizes what he just walked in on, but otherwise hides his embarrassment rather well as he addresses his friend.

“…Hi,” he says to Louis where he’s kneeling down in front of Harry’s open fly. “Sorry to interrupt. I see that you’re kind of preoccupied, but I saw you two take off this way and someone’s looking to chat with you out there. He says he and your mum used to be really good friends?”

“Okay. Sure, I’ll be right there,” Louis says as he stands up straight and runs his fingers over his mouth, still a bright pink from how hard they were kissing. He goes to follow Niall out the door and so does Harry until he looks down and realizes he is in no state to go back out in public.

“Um, I- I’ll be right there in a second,” Harry says when Louis raises an eyebrow at him still standing against the wall. “I just need a moment to get myself together.” He gestures at his clothing and the outline of his dick visible where Louis was just mere seconds away from putting it in his mouth. “I’ll find you,” he promises.

Louis snorts a laugh at his frazzled expression. “Okay. Hurry up,” he whispers. He steps back into the room to kiss his lips in a much calmer manner than before and yet Harry’s body is still reacting.

Harry’s left alone with nothing but thoughts of Louis to keep him company which do not help his situation at all. He thinks about less arousing things like igloos and snow and it still takes several minutes before he’s ready to fix his clothes and rejoin the ball.

He doesn’t see Louis right away once he’s back in the main room, but he doesn’t panic because it’s not like he could go far in a place like this that’s filled with eyes. The two of them couldn’t even sneak off for a quiet moment alone in the coat room without being seen, so he’s sure Louis’ fine.

He spots Niall in the crowd before he can find Louis, but since Louis left with him, he must be close by.

“Hey, Niall. Where did he run off to?”

Niall turns away from the conversation he was just having with a friend and shrugs.

“I don’t know. He’s somewhere, I reckon. I thought he was already back with you.”

“No. I just came back. I thought he was with you,” Harry says carefully, now feeling a bit uneasy since neither of them has seen Louis in the past ten minutes.

Niall places a hand on Harry’s shoulder in comfort. “I’m sure Louis’ just fine, mate. Maybe he’s in the bathroom or just needed a minute. He was talking with that guy who was looking for him earlier. Mr. Rudling or whatever his name is. They were just right there by the stage. They can’t have gone too far.”

Harry’s heart skips a beat, already not liking where this conversation is going. “ _Who_?” That name doesn’t ring any bells. He has stared at the guest list for tonight every day for the last month and not once has he ever seen the name Rudling on it.

“I don’t know,” Niall says. “He was the one I told you about in the coat room. He said he knew Louis’ mum. He wanted to congratulate him.”

“But _did_ he know Louis’ mum?” All signs so far point to no. “Have you ever seen this man before, Niall?”

Niall makes a face like that’s a dumb question. “No? But it’s not like I know every person she ever met. What is it?” Niall asks when Harry quickly turns away from him.

The room feels like it’s spinning when Harry glances around it again and Louis is nowhere to be seen. “He’s not on the list,” is all Harry can push out of his lungs. Niall’s face pales like he’s just now realizing the gravity of the situation.

“W-Who isn’t? That man I sent him to talk to?”

“ _Yes_ , him. He’s not supposed to be here.”

Niall shrinks back at his tone, and Harry immediately apologizes because this isn’t his fault. Harry should’ve been with him. Niall asks him a dozen different questions ranging from who the man really is to whether or not he thinks Louis is okay. He doesn’t have time to coddle Niall right now so Harry doesn’t answer any of them. He tells Niall not to worry or tell anyone that something is wrong before tearing through the room to find the only other person here who can help at this point.

“Louis’ missing. I need your help,” he says in Liam’s ear so that he doesn’t cause everyone else around him to panic.

Liam doesn’t let on that there’s a situation unfolding as he excuses himself from his table and then quickly follows Harry past the stage and into the long corridor behind it.

“How long since someone’s seen him?”

“Almost ten minutes. He was with a man who managed to slip past security.”

“That’s not a lot of time. Call him. They could still be here.”

Harry really fucking hopes that they are.

He reaches into his pocket for his phone and dials Louis’ number as he and Liam begin silently making their way through the back of the venue. Harry swears aloud after a few seconds of it continuously ringing because Louis set it to do not disturb before they left the house.

“We’ll find him,” Liam promises as they enter the first dark storage room on the right and move onto another when they come up empty handed.

Harry only left him alone for a few minutes. He hadn’t even been concerned about doing so because he assumed they were surrounded by friends tonight. He guesses that’s what he gets for assuming. This person has been waiting months for Harry to fuck up like he always does and he finally got his chance.

“I shouldn’t have let him out of my sight.”

“Stop it. Everything’s going to be fine.”

That’s the same thing Liam said to him when that woman died because of them. That night is the whole reason Harry even got assigned to protect Louis. Watching over him was supposed to be a last chance effort for him to get his shit together. He didn’t mean to fall in love with him in the process, but he did and now he’s probably going to lose him and it’s all Harry’s fault.

“ _Shh_. Wait.” Liam stops them when they reach one of the last rooms in the corridor and hear soft sounds coming from under the door that Harry was just seconds from opening.

There’s definitely somebody in there and Harry’s first instinct is to kick it down to see if it’s Louis, but he knows better. He knows better than to make the kidnapper panic and do something stupid so he lets Liam and his clear head silently count to three before swiftly entering the room.

He remembers the first time they did this when they thought Louis was being attacked in his house only to find him and Niall wrestling on the floor. Louis is on the floor this time too, but he’s bound with his mouth taped shut, watching as he and Liam take down the coward who tried to run the moment he realized he’d been caught.

They call for backup once the man is down and Liam has a tight hold on him. Harry immediately crawls over to Louis to untie him.

He winces from how tender his mouth and wrists are from being so tightly restrained. Harry quickly checks him over for other signs of damage, but doesn’t find any right away.

“Louis, look at me. Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

They’re the same routine questions he asks everybody in situations where their safety or lives were at stake. Louis nods his head in answer to his last question as the tears start falling and he curls into Harry’s embrace like no one ever has before.

Harry holds him close, feeling so grateful that he’s alright, but mostly he’s just relieved that all of this is finally over.

*

People in the ball room are understandably confused when a man is escorted through the middle of it and out the front door in a pair of handcuffs an hour later. Liam’s first priorities had been to give a report of what happened so they could get the man off the premises and into a jail cell where he belongs. Harry’s only concern had been to make sure Louis was going to be okay.

He had figured Louis would be happy to go home after what he just went through, but he said he didn’t want the night to be ruined because of some idiot. He planned this night for his mum and he said he wasn’t abandoning it for anything. Harry didn’t argue with him, promising to keep his mouth shut and drink the champagne that Louis plied him with to calm his worries because with the kidnapper out of the picture, Harry is _finally_ off duty.

“I think you’re trying to get me drunk,” Harry says when Louis slides his fifth glass of alcohol in front of him.

“You’re not wrong,” Louis giggles, watching the way Harry narrows his eyes at him in accusation. “And I’d say you’re already well past that, mate. Drunk as a fish in water.”

Harry knows he is. He started feeling tipsy after just the first glass because he hardly ever drinks anymore so alcohol hits him pretty hard. That was hours ago. It’s past midnight now. All of Louis’ guests have already cleared out and gone home, leaving just them with all the unfinished bottles of champagne they took from the kitchen and the cleaning crew who keeps shooting them amused looks each time Harry sighs at the state he’s in and Louis cackles about it.

Harry rests his head on the table frowning because it’s nowhere near as soft as Louis’ shoulder or his lap but laying on one of those would require him to move another few inches and that’s asking far too much.

He feels gentle hands working their way through his hair after a while and sighs in contentment.

“Tired, love?” Louis’ soft voice could lull him to sleep right now, but Harry shakes his head.

“No,” he lies. “Not unless you are.” Louis chuckles something about him being worse than a child and Harry just loves him so much. He doesn’t even know how that happened. Only that it did and he’s so grateful for it. He grabs Louis’ hand to kiss it. He frowns when he notices the red rings still visible around his tiny wrist. Harry kisses them too, watching Louis’ eyes flutter closed from the touch. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispers. “I would’ve been really sad if he hurt you.”

Louis’ eyes crinkle up before nodding seriously at Harry’s statement.

“Yeah, Haz. Me too.”

“Were you scared?”

He must’ve been. Harry wasn’t even the one caught up in the danger of the situation and he was scared out of his mind.  

“I was,” he admits. “I was terrified, but I also wasn’t because I knew that you’d notice I was gone before it was too late. Even if he had gotten the chance to leave with me, I knew you’d find me. And you did.”

His blue eyes are so earnest and beautiful when he grins at him.

“Always,” Harry says, hoping Louis knows that promise lasts a lifetime.

The car is waiting for them when they finally decide to call it a night. Harry can’t remember the last time he was this intoxicated, but Louis is right there to help him up the stairs, unlace his shoes, and help him get undressed when he’s too lazy to do it himself.

The room feels like it’s spinning when he crawls into bed and closes his eyes. He hates that feeling, but Louis cuddles him close pressing his warm lips to his hair and like magic, everything goes still. He begins to drift off as soon as Louis starts rubbing his back.

Harry’s ears barely register Louis saying anything when he whispers _thank you_ and _I love you_ against his skin. Harry says it back, or at least he tries to. He must not have done a very good job of it because Louis chuckles into his hair.

He’s sure Louis heard what he said or what he _meant_ to say, but it feels like ‘I love you’ anyway when Louis squeezes him tighter in his arms. Harry falls asleep with a heart so full that he thinks he could lie there forever; both of them safe and sound.

*

 Spring

People always ask what it’s like having worked for the Tomlinsons after all these years. It’s an answer that has varied and changed over time just like all of their lives; even those lives that have ended much too soon.

He started driving for them and moved into a little house with his family just a few minutes down the road from the massive home Mr. Tomlinson bought with his wife to start their family. They had just gotten married. Louis hadn’t been born yet, so in the beginning he had the honor of safely taking the happy newlyweds wherever they needed to go. At that time, working for the Tomlinsons was lovely, and most notably, _easy_. That all changed rather quickly a couple of years later when Louis arrived, kicking and screaming his tiny head off on the way home from the hospital. Louis’ infancy was one of the few moments in time where he didn’t always have nice things to say about the Tomlinsons simply because the smallest one never shut up.

He never was a quiet child especially after he learned to talk, but his parents loved him more than anything and he was the center of their world. The Tomlinsons’ lives changed along with their driver’s with the arrival of his own two children in the little house down the road that only seemed to be getting smaller each day from how fast his kids grew up.

Louis started growing up too. He had been an only child all of his life and therefore felt the need to make up for all the mischief he couldn’t get into with siblings by getting into twice as much mischief all on his own. He was sweet though when he wanted to be and charming. Like the time when he wanted to sneak out and go to a party so he called for the car at half past midnight and did such a good job making a case for himself that Louis almost convinced him to help in his efforts. _Almost._ He quickly reminded Louis that his parents’ word was law and that he quite liked his job and didn’t care to lose it by helping a fifteen-year-old sneak out. That was one of the times when people would ask about his job and the Tomlinson’s where he’d pause and grin because it was never boring.

The second he was old enough Louis took off for uni where it can only be assumed he continued being his lovely and vexing self. That’s what he gathered from the few conversations he overheard between Mr. and Mrs. Tomlinson anyway. It was also pretty clear each time Louis came back home to visit sporting a fresh tattoo that he and his father would argue about until it was time for Louis to go back to school to presumably get _more_ tattoos. Louis’ mother never chastised him for things like that. She always enjoyed the fact that he was a little rambunctious. Most of the time she even encouraged it. Her nurturing spirit drove her husband absolutely mad of course but he still loved her anyway. Honestly, that’s probably what he loved about her the most.

Mrs. Tomlinson was always like that. She had the ability to see good when others saw something else entirely. Working for her was always a pleasure from the start which is why things felt so strange a few years later when she became ill.  

The Tomlinsons had always been a family filled with laughter because even as crazy as they all drove each other, no one could deny the love between them all. Mrs. Tomlinson didn’t get better like they had all hoped. She only got worse, and sadly that was when all the laughter stopped.

Louis had been off living in the city with his friends after he graduated from school, but he came back home when they realized she wasn’t going to make it. She died that same year and driving them back from her funeral was one of the hardest things he’s ever done. It wasn’t quite as hard as watching Mr. Tomlinson and his son push away from each other afterwards because they were hurting and didn’t feel like they could rely on one another.

They tried making it work together; to pick up the pieces but Mr. Tomlinson could barely stand being in the house without her. They couldn’t make it work. Not with one of them fiercely clinging onto her memory and the other trying his best to forget it. Just a few weeks after she was gone, Mr. Tomlinson packed up his things and left too.

Louis was the only one left in the house and therefore the only Tomlinson he now worked for. Just like always, he drove Louis wherever he needed to go, often turning a blind eye or biting his tongue when he’d pick Louis up from clubs at two in the morning so drunk he could barely even stand. Louis would talk on nights like those, though it wasn’t a nuisance like it had been when he was a kid. He’d curl up in the back seat confessing how sad and lonely he felt but pride would never let him admit it in the light of day.

Things carried on that way for a long time until he gradually started drinking less and feeling better. Louis decided to get into the music industry just like his father, though the two of them still had their differences and issues. Louis was still alone, still living in that big house all by himself until one day he wasn’t anymore due to some unfortunate circumstances that brought Mr. Styles to live there too. There have been many stages of the Tomlinsons’ lives that he’s enjoyed spectating over the years, but watching the battles that the two of them fought each day has to be one of his favorites. Because although everyone besides Harry and Louis saw their love coming from a mile away, no one saw it happen quite like him.

He watched them in the beginning. Back when Louis would ask Harry a million different questions on their way from one place to another and then ask a million and one more on the way back simply to be a nuisance. He noticed them falling for each other before they ever did. They were too busy pretending that the closeness forming between them was nothing but companionship when it was something so much stronger than that.

From the speed with which things were progressing, he figured the two of them would figure it all out fairly easily. He thought it would happen at any moment until one day he had dropped them off at home and things were great and the next day things had gotten so bad that they’d taken up shouting at each other in the back seat of the car.

It was painful to see them like that. Almost as painful as it had been to watch Louis cope with his mother’s death in all of the worst ways possible. However, nothing was as bad as the night Mr. Styles voluntarily sat in the passenger’s seat up front because Mr. Tomlinson was very occupied with someone else he’d clearly just met.

He remembers mentally thanking Harry when he turned up the music to drown out the sound of them drunkenly kissing in the back. He also remembers wishing he knew Mr. Styles well enough to wrap him in a hug because he looked like he really needed one. There was no fixing the giant mess they’d made of what was once such a promising start. He honestly wasn’t surprised later that night when he overheard Mr. Styles quit.

Harry was set to go home for Christmas a few days later and according to him, he wouldn’t be coming back. No one had even realized that Louis went home with him until they came back three days later and things were surprisingly better. As bad as things were when they left, he figured Louis and Harry would have killed each other in the time they were gone, but when they came back things were better than just better because Mr. Tomlinson and Mr. Styles had finally figured it out.

The change was remarkable. Before, he’d have to avert his eyes from the rearview mirror and crank up the music to avoid hearing them fight, but now he had to do those things because they couldn’t keep their hands or their _mouths_ off of each other. It felt like driving Mr. and Mrs. Tomlinson again when they’d just gotten married, but he didn’t complain then and wasn’t complaining now because at least in both cases the couples were insanely happy.

Kind of like right now as he watches them stumble out their front door together in a mess of limbs as they race each other to the car. It wobbles when they pile inside, climbing over top of one another like there aren’t two separate doors they could use.

They’re drunk already. He can smell the alcohol on them and see the effects of it in their eyes but he can’t judge them too harshly considering tonight is a celebration; Louis’ first number one single from his first official album.

He puts the car in drive once the two of them have settled down and starting kissing after coming to a consensus about who should be forced to slide over to the other person’s side of the car. He turns on the radio to drown out the sound of their conversation, the car swerving a bit when the intro to Louis’ song starts and they both scream for him to turn it up. He shouldn’t find them so funny but they are as they shout the lyrics so loudly that the volume of their voices almost hurts in the small space of the car. He peeks back at them in the rearview mirror wondering if they even realize the way they look at each other.

Louis gets a phone call just as the song finishes. The radio gets turned down so Louis can hear but he’s giggling so much from Harry kissing all over his face that the person on the other end of the receiver can barely hear him anyway.

“I said we’re on the way,” Louis repeats to the person who still can’t make out what he’s saying through his laughter. Louis puts the phone on speaker and his father’s voice comes through telling him that the party is going to start in the next fifteen minutes with or without him. “Yeah, right. It’s _my_ party,” Louis mumbles. His father still catches it and tells him to hurry up. “Alright, alright. We’re on the way right now, dad. I’m literally in the car right this second, _I’m_ dressed, _Haz_ is dressed,” he announces only for his father to mutter _thank God_. “Obviously we’ve had a few and Harry’s being _super_ fucking annoying, but we’re almost there. I promise. Cross my heart,” he smiles.

His father seems satisfied with that because it gets him to say goodbye; either that or he knows his son is lying through his teeth and he’s too lazy to argue with him.

“You just said I was annoying,” comes a deeply offended voice, followed by an amused, _that’s because you are._

“Take it back,” Harry demands with a swift slap to Louis’ thigh.

Louis snorts a laugh. He doesn’t apologize nor does he retaliate, choosing instead to crawl into Mr. Styles’ lap to kiss his ego better. It turns more heated than playful after a minute so naturally the radio volume gets set to full blast.

They should really invest in a car with a partition.

They arrive at the label just in time to stop either of them from forgetting where they are and getting undressed in the back of the car as Louis’ father had feared earlier.

When he dares chance a peek at them in the rearview mirror they’re still quietly wrapped up together. The two of them don’t get out of the car right away. Louis stays in Harry’s embrace listening to him gush about how proud he is of him. The two of them make quite a lively pair especially when there’s alcohol involved, but these soft, tender moments between them are why he still loves working for this family even after all these years.

He’s never seen two people love each other quite the way Louis and Harry so obviously do. Sure they get on each other’s nerves more times than not and they had a hell of ride getting to this point, but it’s love and it’s special and he’s honored to have had the chance to witness it first hand.

They finally head up to Louis’ party after people start calling them every thirty seconds. They were technically supposed to be here forty minutes ago but Louis didn’t call for the car in time to make it because he and Harry were too busy partying in the house with just the two of them.

A pair of grateful _thank you’s_ get aimed towards the driver’s seat of the car as the two of them shuffle out of it. He drives off once they’re safely inside the building and heads back home to the little house down the road from the Tomlinson’s big house to wait until he’s called again to come pick them up. On the way back, he wonders what they’ll be like in a few hours after celebrating such a victory along with everybody else. He oftentimes wonders what they’ll be like years from now too since they seem pretty set on keeping each other forever; if they’ll always be this way with one another. If they’ll get married someday and then make him drive around a screaming baby of their own who’s just as ridiculous and lovely as they are.

He assumes they will. He hopes they will, because if any two people deserve a life filled with laughter and more love, it’s them.

**Author's Note:**

> No one asked for this. I just really needed Bodyguard Harry :)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much FallingLikeThis (Zayniam) for reading over this beast as I write it, and thanks to anyone else who's reading!  
>  


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